


You Can't Fix A Man Who Doesn't Know He's Broken

by shippingsailor



Category: Euphoria (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingsailor/pseuds/shippingsailor
Summary: An original female character arrives in East Highland and instantly captivates Nate. But she is wise and wordly, and she knows he is bad news, so she does her best to stay away from him. Nevertheless, they keep crossing paths and she makes Nate wish to be better. Slow burn. We're getting there.
Relationships: Nate Jacobs/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 81





	1. It begins

In many ways it already seemed like a normal high school - the cliques, the drama, the immature overreactions about insignificant things. Claire had seen it all. This was her fourth high school in as many years, and her tenth move since she could remember formal schooling at all. She was used to the routine of it; settling in to a new school hardly even rattled her now, and she didn’t really care what clique she fell into. The capriciousness of high school popularity was old news, and she knew she wouldn’t stay in one place long enough for it to matter. At some schools, she’d instantly risen to the pinnacle of popularity: the new girl, the mystery, the fresh meat. And she was undeniably beautiful in the kind of showy way that she couldn’t hide behind baggy clothes or big glasses. It had gotten worse as she got older. Claire was tall for a girl - 5’7’' - not freakishly tall but tall enough to stick out. Her huge, thick-lashed eyes were a striking shade of green, and her pert chin contrasted symmetrically with high cheekbones and naturally sculpted brows. Her smile, which flashed more frequently than it probably should have, was bright and winning. Her two best features, though, were her hair and her fine-boned but athletic body. She was naturally slender, with delicate wrists and ankles and aristocratic, high-arched feet at the end of preternaturally long legs that were just shy of being disproportionate. Her fingers were long and tapered with almond-shaped nails that always managed to look manicured even when she barely groomed them. Claire would have looked fragile except she’d been dancing and running all her life, so she was lithe, with long, defined muscles and a catlike grace. What everyone noticed first, though, was her hair. It fell in honey-gold wavelike curls down to her waist, so thick and shiny that she hardly ever bothered to battle it into a hair tie, which would inevitably break or slip off. When gathered together, her hair had that annoying circumference that stretched most conventional hair ties to their limit on the third loop, but was too loose to hold with only two. For the past two years or so, as she’d started to mature into a woman’s appearance vs. a little girl’s, she had grown used to people’s reactions to her. At first it had been flattering and sometimes shocking -- the men and boys would stare and stammer, while the girls would narrow their eyes and either be saccharine sweet or hostile. These days, she just rolled her eyes when the boys stared, and she was on her guard immediately no matter what the girls did. The sweet ones just wanted to use her; the hostile ones saw her as a threat. She had a small core group of close friends that she kept in touch with regardless of her newest move, and everyone else was suspect. Only those people knew her; only those people didn’t care that she looked like a fairytale princess; only those people could laugh with her about how much she hated it and not hold it against her. They kept her grounded. Claire knew how to play politics in the high school game. She observed the dynamics closely; she was smart and savvy and she played well, but as soon as she stepped over the threshold of her room at the end of the day, she released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding and finally felt like herself again. 

At this school, the popular girls instantly gravitated to her. They saw how their boys reacted when she walked through the halls, and they decided the safest route was to keep their enemy close. The center of this particular universe was a girl named Maddy. She was pretty and exceptionally well-groomed and she intentionally wore clothes that showed off a very curvaceous figure. Claire had seen her type many times before. Maddy was the kind of girl who was used to adoration, and she didn’t like having competition. Luckily, Claire was wholly uninterested in competing with this girl for whatever social capital she had. She greeted Maddy with a genuine smile and did everything she could to ensure Maddy knew she was no threat. Things were going quite well until _he_ walked into the room. He had a certain gravity, and Claire was exquisitely sensitive to shifting dynamics. She allowed her eyes to swivel temporarily away from Maddy and her circle, and Nate was hard to miss. 

He was clearly looking for Maddy, but after he scanned the room for a second, his eyes immediately found Claire. She met his gaze for a second before she looked away quickly, focusing hard on the story Maddy had been telling. But Maddy had noticed the quiet stir Nate caused with his entrance, and when she, too, glanced toward the doorway, she saw Nate staring hard at Claire. Her eyes immediately narrowed. It was a familiar expression to Claire, and her heart sank. She could feel Nate’s eyes on her like they radiated heat, even though she was trying to look as engrossed by Maddy as possible. Nate stalked up to their group (there was no better way to describe how he moved; it was dominant and predatory) and stood behind Maddy. Even though he put his hands on her shoulders possessively and she instinctively reached up to place one manicured hand over his, his eyes never left Claire. Claire, in turn, was trying hard not to look at him, but she could see the deep brown intensity of his gaze in the periphery. Maddy finished her story and twisted around to look up adoringly at Nate over her shoulder. He didn’t look down.

“Who are you?” he asked Claire without pretense. 

Slowly, she dragged her eyes away from Maddy and answered with a brightness that sounded a bit forced even to her ears, “I’m Claire. I’m new here. You must be Maddy’s boyfriend.”

Maddy’s eyes cut over to Claire quickly, and Claire read surprise and relief in her expression that Claire had staked her territory without her having to make the claim herself. 

“Nate,” he said, neither confirming nor denying.

“Cool.” Claire replied. “Well, Maddy, it was really nice to meet you. I’d better get to class. Maybe I’ll see you guys later,” she said, encompassing the whole entourage. She picked up her backpack and slung it over one shoulder, then turned away and headed determinedly out the door without a backward glance. 

Nate watched her go in silence. She was tall; probably half a foot taller than Maddy but still nearly a foot shorter than him. She was dressed in jeans and a vintage t-shirt that didn’t hide her lithe grace, though it was clear she was trying to be unassuming. It was refreshing to see a girl who was plainly gorgeous not trying to play it up with provocative clothes and heavy makeup like Maddy. Maddy, who was currently studying him closely as he clearly contemplated the new girl. Startled at being observed, Nate turned back to Maddy.

“She seems nice,” Maddy said carefully, waiting for a reaction from Nate. She was used to being highly dialed in to his emotions; he was volatile, and her survival instincts were good. 

“Hm,” he said noncommittally, still lost in his thoughts but battling back to avoid the appearance of distraction. 

Sensing danger, Maddy put both hands on Nate’s chest and leaned provocatively against him. “My parents are out of town this weekend. Want to come over to my house tonight?” 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling one-sidedly as he wrapped his arms around Maddy’s shoulders and she turned her head and rested her cheek against his chest, temporarily reassured of her supremacy. Over her head, Nate was still operating on two levels in that coldly calculating way he had. On one hand, he was giving Maddy the assurance he knew she needed; she could switch to being bitchy and vindictive on a dime if she felt dismissed. On the other, he was self-assessing. Catching Claire’s deep green gaze for just a second had unsettled him considerably, and he wasn’t sure why. Her reaction to him wasn’t typical, either. Nate knew he was strikingly handsome. It wasn’t something he gloated over, but his appearance was a powerful tool, and Nate never let a good hand go unplayed. Yet Claire had seemed remarkably indifferent in a way that wasn’t feigned. Most girls who tried to play it cool around him could still be caught sneaking sideways glances. Not Claire. She had seen him, felt what he felt, and then ignored it with scientific detachment. There had been an electricity in their shared gaze that couldn’t be denied, but she had been either genuinely less intrigued by that or she had remarkable self-control. He suspected the latter. Nate admired self-control. He also admired the way Claire seemed to study the dynamics in the room and play them to her advantage. That girl could tell right away that allowing the spotlight to shift from Maddy would be dangerous, Nate realized. And she studiously avoided the spotlight herself, even though it followed her the way it followed him. He was intrigued, and he couldn’t deny it. He wasn’t sure if he felt threatened or excited.

Nate was in Claire’s chemistry class. Fortunately not at her table. She was paired with a jock who made it clear within the first few minutes of lab time that he thought trash-talking Nate’s athletic abilities would win him points with the hot new girl. So Claire quickly found out that Nate was the starting quarterback with a surprisingly good record, and that Maddy was a cheerleader. She almost laughed. It was like she had fallen onto the set of every cliche teen movie ever made. Claire laughed at the appropriate times as the jock gained confidence that loosened his tongue. She took careful mental notes about social dynamics he disclosed as she expertly guided them through the lab. Her partner confirmed every jock stereotype; he grew increasingly flirty and handsy but was clearly dumb as a post, having relied on his athletic ability, relative good looks, and impressive physique for far too long. Claire had done this exact same lab once before at a previous school, so she smiled and made small talk and deftly side-stepped his wandering hands as she executed to complex steps of the lab flawlessly, more interested in whether she could remember how to do it correctly than in the clumsy flirtations of her lab partner. He, of course, never caught on that her friendliness was just a survival tactic. The teacher came around once and praised them for an expertly executed formula, and Claire smiled genuinely for the first time all period.

Nate was watching her. He let his dorky partner do all the work while he sat and studied Claire. She expertly struck the balance of good-naturedly putting up with Finn’s embarrassing mating rituals without encouraging him. He never seemed to catch on to what was blindingly obvious to Nate: that her indulgence of Finn’s blundering was entirely contrived. Her attention was clearly on the lab, and - somewhat to Nate’s surprise - she was smart, precise, and accurate. She navigated the careful dance of rejecting Finn’s advances without him realizing he was being shut down almost as an afterthought while simultaneously working well enough to earn Mr. Porter’s stingy praise. Clearly it was a practiced dance. Claire was a force to be reckoned with, Nate acknowledged. He found himself admiring her, and not in the cynical way he admired Maddy, who could be cutthroat and savage because she did what she had to do. Claire seemed never to be reduced to that. She managed to play people with grace in a way that was not entirely condescending. She didn’t seem to scorn Finn; she just had better things to do, and indulging him meant she could be rid of him faster with no bad blood. Nate was pretty disenchanted with the whole of humanity, but something about Claire let him hope. He hurriedly tamped down the feeling. It made him uncomfortable. His world was far closer to Maddy’s -- a complicated place where secrets remained hidden and tensions simmered under the surface and everyone knew everyone else was terminally fucked-up but didn’t talk about it. Claire seemed above that, somehow. Aware of his world, but unaffected by it. Nate didn’t know how to engage with that, and part of him didn’t want to. Let her stay in the light. It’s dark where he is, and if he led her down beside him, she’d illuminate the parts of himself he didn’t want to see.

Claire had been wrong about this school. It wasn’t just like the others. Things were much more complex than that. She’d been to one party in this town, and that was enough. Maddy was on the outs with Nate (probably over the tension she’d felt between Nate and Claire despite Claire’s best intentions), and so she’d passive-aggressively fucked some random dude in the swimming pool. Nate had correspondingly lost his shit and got confrontational with some other new girl who’d gotten him to back off only by freaking him out with a knife. Possibly the coolest person she’d met was apparently a recovering - or not so recovering, depending on the day - drug addict. Drama was normal, but this -- this shit was ridiculous. Claire dodged the advances of several drunk jocks who were friends with her chemistry lab partner and headed for the riverside park she’d seen when driving into town with her dad in the rented UHaul van that contained their meager possessions. They always rented fully furnished homes, so all she carried was her clothing, some selected books, and a few sentimental knicknacks. Claire sat on the top of the octagonal tables near the water, resting her feet on the attached benches. It was foggy, so the lights of the nearby restaurants gave the place an eerie glow. It was quiet, though, and she could hear the water lapping against the shore a few paces ahead. Claire took some deep breaths and closed her eyes. 

_It’s just another school,_ she told herself. _We won’t have to be here long. Just survive. Stay the hell away from the crazier of the kids, and come out on the other side._ She was calming down, feeling good again, soothed by the beauty of the night and the practiced ease with which she could extricate herself from other people’s wild entanglements, when she heard tires screeching and the muffled bass of loud music in a car’s interior. The sounds cut off abruptly and Claire heard a door open and slam. Footsteps on the pavement, stumbling a bit as the person’s feet hit the grass and then the sand in the dark, unsure of where the surfaces transitioned. Splashing. Clearly whoever had just arrived was wading into the lake fully clothed. There was a pause, then the wet smack of a shirt and shoes being tossed up onto the bank. Claire rolled her eyes in the dark. Some drunk idiot, most like. Probably coming from the same party she’d just fled. Claire was about to get up and leave before she was noticed, but something made her stay, listening in the dark. Sounds of swimming, somewhat choppy; imprecise strokes. Suddenly there was silence that stretched on for a worryingly long time. Claire’s ears strained till a burst of wet coughing that broke the silence startled her enough to make her jump. The swimmer was thrashing around in the water. Claire stood up, unsure what to do. The sounds had an urgency to them, a kind of distress.

“Hello?” she called into the dark. “Are you ok?” No answer except more thrashing and a gasping breath.

“Fuck,” Claire muttered under her breath. She was a strong swimmer, but she knew how dangerous drowning people could be. She looked around for some kind of rope or floatation device, but it was too dark and foggy to make out much beyond a 10 foot radius. Meanwhile, the sounds continued. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she flung her sundress off and waded into the lake, gasping as the cold water lapped at her thighs. She dove forward and swam toward the sounds, but as soon as she felt she was close, she stopped and put her hands out in the water. She managed to grab onto one flailing hand, and she closed her grip hard around the wrist. She could barely keep her grip around the heavy bones, but fortunately the person grabbed onto her hand, too. Claire dragged hard, pulling the person toward shore before he or she could get ahold of her and pull her down. Before long, she was able to touch bottom, so she dug her toes into the sand and hauled with all her strength, pulling the struggling body behind her until the person sensed solid ground, too. Coughing, he stood behind her as she sat heavily on the sand. Claire’s heart sank as she saw a familiar form silhouetted against the glow of the restaurants. Exceptionally tall and beautifully made, a shirtless Nate stood above her in the lake. Claire crab-walked backward along the sand until she was in shallow water, then pulled herself up and sloshed out of the surf, trying to remember where she’d thrown her dress. 

Nate coughed loudly several times before he could speak properly, but he could doubtless see who his unlikely rescuer was. 

“What the hell, Nate?” she said, giving up on her search for her dress in the dark and standing before him with her hands on her hips. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

He looked her up and down, then tossed his head back to shake the water out. “Just sobering up,” he said.

Claire frowned. “Drunk driving and drunk swimming. Or should I say drunk drowning? Add that to property destruction in the midst of a jealous rage and harassment. You’re really having a stellar night.”

Nate was silent, staring at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly exposed in just her underwear and bra even though it was dark and misty. “Probably business as usual.” She shrugged and turned away. “Well, now that I know you’re not going to die, I’ll be on my way. Though I’m not sure saving your sorry life is worth the trouble.” She turned away, still casting about for her dress.

Being sloppy and vulnerable in front of Claire made Nate inexplicably angry, and before he really knew what he was doing, he’d crossed the space between them in several long strides and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back toward him and clamping both hands around her arms just above the elbow. It was surprisingly immobilizing. 

“Let me go, Nate,” she said levelly. He felt better immediately; his superior strength and size always gave him the upper hand. He leaned over slightly and pulled her closer, breathing in her scent, which was far more spicy than sweet -- another unexpected development that he liked more than he thought he would. Usually, he preferred his girls hyper-feminine: coiffed, waxed, smelling of flowers, a little on the slutty side exuding fuck-me vibes. Claire was definitely fuckable, but she would put up a fight. He found that strangely exciting. 

“Nate,” she repeated, firmly.

He lowered his head and brushed his lips lightly over her forehead, his grip never slackening. She didn’t panic or struggle or shout. She stood there calmly while he bent his knees slightly and rubbed his cheek against hers, his breath hot on her cheek. 

“You’re drunk,” she said. “How are you getting home?”

“Driving,” he whispered, his lips skating across her collarbone now as he sank to his knees in front of her and his arms snaked around her waist. 

She sighed deeply. “The hell you are. Give me your keys.” 

“In the truck,” he muttered, his hands all over her bare skin. 

“I’m not Maddy, Nate,” she said, grabbing his upper arms in turn to try to extricate herself from his embrace.

“Exactly,” he said, getting to his feet abruptly and brushing her cheek lightly with his fingers.

“I’m not a rebound, either.” She turned away from him and reached for his sodden clothes on the sandy beach. Fortunately her dress wasn’t far from them, and she shrugged it over her shoulders then gathered his shirt and shoes up under one arm. He reached for her, but she skipped away from his hand and headed for his truck. It was so jacked up she had to pull herself into the cab using an interior handle, but the keys were in the ignition and the seat moved forward enough to allow her feet access to the pedals. She started the engine. The music blasted, but she turned down the volume and changed the station.

“Get in the car, Nate,” she called. He did, but as he closed the door on the passenger side, he said,

“Nobody drives my truck except me.” 

“Rules are made to be broken,” she replied, smiling her winning smile. It actually disarmed him a little; he had been feeling the edges of a familiar anger creeping in. She’d as much as rejected him and now she was behind the wheel of his truck, acting like she owned the damn place. He didn’t like women who took control. Nate liked to assert dominance. He liked to take the wheel. “I’ve never driven a truck before,” she mused, as if sensing his train of thought. “Show me how.” 

He leaned his head back against the headrest, his world spinning more than he wanted to admit in more ways than he could express. “Just like riding a bike,” he said absently. 

She shifted the gears into reverse and cranked up the heat. A soft song Nate didn’t quite recognize was playing on the radio. She reached across him and buckled him in, and his head was swimming so much he hardly noticed. She sang softly along with the lyrics as she drove into the night, not nearly as inexpert at the wheel as she had pretended. Despite his best intentions, Nate allowed himself to drift off as the huge engine hummed and the warm air circulated through the cab and Claire’s soft voice rose and fell.

Nate’s breath regulated and she knew he was asleep. He’d be pissed at her in the morning, she could tell. He might never speak to her again - might avoid her like the plague - because she’d seen him helpless and because she’d helped. Claire knew his type, too. Bravado was his shield. Who knew what kind of conflicted mess lay beneath his strutting veneer and quick fists. She’d make sure to be well clear of his anger when he woke up. In the meantime, she’d get his worthless ass back to his house safely. His house. _Fuck_ , she thought. She had no idea where Nate Jacobs lived. She eyed his pants pocket, looking for a bulge that might indicate a wallet. Maybe he’d had the forethought to leave it in the car before the party. She reached into the center console while she drove on unseeingly through the night. Claire had no idea where she was; this town was still a mystery to her. Luckily her fingers closed around what was undoubtedly a leather wallet, and she found his license and his address with relative ease. _He’s a Gemini_ , she noted, as she tucked the billfold back where she’d found it. _No surprise there._

She let the truck’s built-in GPS guide her along empty roads into one of the nicest parts of town she’d seen. This truck, Nate’s clothes, his clean-cut aesthetic. It shouldn’t be a surprise he was rich. She pulled into the driveway of a veritable mansion, though, and turned off the truck. Claire sat for a moment, studying the man beside her. There was no doubt he was preternaturally handsome. Bare-chested in the light of the soft landscaping lights, Nate was Grecian perfection. His skin was milky and flawless, stretched over well-defined muscles that were not too bulky. Bedraggled hair did not detract from a face carved from stone by a master’s hand, softened and humanized in sleep where it was normally sharply angled and foreboding. Though in repose, his body was intimidatingly large. His thighs were the width of small trees, and his long legs barely fit in the generous space between seat and dash. Long-fingered hands lay palm-up beside him, and Claire’s body thrilled rebelliously from head to toe remembering the strength in them as he held her arms. Nate was dangerous and beautiful, and though looking at him made her heart skip a beat, the dominant emotion around Nate was caution. With infinitesimal slowness, Claire draped his wet shirt over the steering wheel so it would air dry without leaving a puddle on his seat. Then, she eased away from Nate slowly, unlatching the door and sliding down onto the cement soundlessly. Claire lifted the door handle and pushed the cab door closed slowly, hoping it latched but not daring to push hard enough to make a noise. Just was she was tiptoeing around the bed of the truck and pulling her phone out of her pocket to get her bearings and hopefully walk home, another set of headlights turned into Nate’s driveway.

Momentarily blinded and a little confused - who would be coming home at this hour if not a teenager? - Claire stood stock still as a somewhat nondescript sedan pulled up alongside Nate’s truck, sweeping her with the beams of its headlights in a way that made anonymity impossible. She rushed around to the passenger side of the truck just in time to hold her finger to her mouth in full view of a handsome older man who stepped out of the sedan.

“Shhhh,” she cautioned, gesturing to the passenger seat of the truck. “He’s sleeping, and I don’t want him to wake up before I leave.”

The man driving the sedan raised an eyebrow at her.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Claire,” she said, somewhat exasperated. “Who are you?”

“Cal Jacobs,” he answered, as if that was sufficient explanation by itself. When recognition didn’t dawn on her face, he added somewhat hesitantly, “Nate’s dad?”

“Oh, hi Mr. Jacobs,” Claire intoned, somewhat relieved. “What are you doing out at… “ she glanced at her phone, “Three AM?”

He frowned at her. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

Rather than deferring, she boldly said, “I was driving your drunk idiot son home after he nearly drowned himself in the lake.” 

Cal Jacobs looked at her hard, then smiled. “I suppose I should thank you, then. And maybe return the favor? Do you live far from here?” 

Claire looked around. “I have no idea. I don’t know where I am.”

“Well, then,” Nate’s dad said with amusement apparent in his voice. “I should drive you home.” He walked around the back of the sedan and opened the door, then stood there wordlessly, waiting. 

Claire debated. The guy could be a total psycho. He was, after all, apparently tooling around town in the early hours of the morning. But she was tired and didn’t particularly relish the idea of schlepping whatever distance Google Maps told her she’d have to walk to get back to her house before she could fall into bed and sleep till Monday. She had her phone and knew how to speed dial 911.

“Okay,” she agreed, and stepped into the car. She caught the door as he swung it closed and eased it quietly into place. He climbed in beside her and she asked him not to slam the door till he had backed out of the driveway a little. Fortunately he hadn’t cut the engine, so restarting it didn’t risk waking Nate. Once they had headed back out onto the road, both of them opened and closed their doors again just to be sure.

“So you’re new in town? I haven’t seen you before. I know most of Nate’s friends.” He was making small talk.

“I wouldn’t call myself Nate’s friend. But yes, I’m new.” She checked her phone and set the GPS to her address. “Here’s where we’re headed.” She showed Cal Jacobs the screen.

“Germantown. I know it. You can put that away. Just point out the house when we get close.” 

Silence reigned for a moment.

“Why wouldn’t you call yourself Nate’s friend? You probably took better care of him tonight than anyone else he knows.”

Claire wondered for a moment at that comment. _Yourself included?_ She almost asked, but she bit her tongue. “It’s not personal. I just look out for people.”

“Well, that is exceptionally kind. Nate is generally a good kid. But he has his moments,” Cal mused.

Claire’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure by what standard this guy measured “good” but he either had exceptionally low standards or was pretty damn ignorant about what kind of son he’d raised. 

“What do you do?” she asked, in order to change the subject. Cal blinked, somewhat taken aback.

“Real estate, mostly,” he answered after a pause. “What brings you to East Highland?”

Claire shrugged. “My dad. He moves around a lot.”

“What about your mom?” His voice was still light.

“She died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How long ago?”

“A long time. It’s ok. I’m not upset about it. Lots of people lose parents. I have good memories of her. I know she loved me, and she would have stuck around if she could.”

Cal looked at her silently. “That’s a very mature perspective.”

Claire shrugged. “Life is full of challenges. They don’t always fuck you up.” She glanced over at Cal. “Sorry for my language.”

He smiled. “Sometimes, no other word but ‘fuck’ makes sense.” Something about the way he said it made her skin crawl, but she smiled back.

“Yep.” 

They were turning onto her street.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Jacobs. My house is just up here. You can let me out now.”

He braked lightly and the car came to a stop.

“I’ll make sure you get in safely.”

“No need,” Claire said dismissively. “This seems like a safe part of town. And I can take care of myself.” 

Cal smiled again. “Yes, that certainly seems to be true.” She waved once, then slammed the door and headed toward her house. Her dad wasn’t going to be home tonight; he had an overnight job that he’d told her about in advance. She let herself into the quiet house, still a little disoriented since it was so new. Claire didn’t bother to make her way to her bedroom; she threw herself down on the couch, covered herself up with the quilt her mother had made when she was sick, and was almost instantly asleep.


	2. If you turn the same direction over and over, you end up going in a circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire tries to avoid Nate. Nate always manages to find her.

“Claire.”

Nate’s voice. Unmistakable. “Claire,” he was whispering, and his hands were under her shirt, skating over her stomach. She groaned, seemingly unable to move. Nate was kneeling beside her, and one hand came free long enough to run gentle fingertips over her cheek and lips. Then he was bent over her, his soft lips touching hers, and she opened her mouth slightly, welcoming the kiss that suddenly intensified. “No!” Claire called out, startling herself into full wakefulness.

She blinked furiously, and her eyes focused on their rented living room. No Nate. Just a dream then. Claire was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. “Ugh,” she groaned, smacking her lips and trying to swallow on a gritty throat. She’d obviously been sleeping with her mouth wide open. Sexy. She thought, laughing to herself. At least she wasn’t hung over. She’d had one shot and one beer at the beginning of the party, but once she’d heard Nate smashing bottles in the kitchen and the ruckus with Jules that followed, she’d decided it would probably be safer to avoid heavy drinking around this crew. She couldn’t help but wonder how Nate was feeling this morning, and whether his dad had let him sleep in the truck all night or dragged his sorry ass inside when he returned from dropping her off. Fortunately she wouldn’t have to see or think of Nate for two solid days. Freedom. Claire threw off the quilt, folded it quickly, and hung it over the top of the couch. She contemplated making pancakes, but instead grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and munched on it absently as she padded into her bedroom, stripped off the sundress she’d worn to the party, and pulled her running clothes out of the chest of drawers. Saturday morning runs were her sanity, and in this hot climate, getting out before the day started in earnest was a necessity. For a moment, she contemplated putting a t-shirt over her sports bra, but imagining it sticking to her back as she ran was an instant deterrent. It was early enough on a weekend that most people would still be asleep anyway. She leaned over the kitchen sink to drink from the tap as she headed out the door, locking it and sliding the one key into the pocket opposite her phone. Claire situated her earbuds and did some quick stretches, then set off down the street with her favorite running playlist blasting.

  
She’d been running for about 20 minutes and was in a groove, so she didn’t hear the horn behind her until she felt a vehicle pull up right beside her. She gasped, pulling the earbud out of the closest ear and ready to unleash a torrent of curses at whoever was in the… white truck. She locked eyes with Nate Jacobs and almost tripped. Claire came to an abrupt stop and put her hands on her knees as Nate’s truck cruised forward a little before he braked. Clearly he expected her to walk up to the driver’s side window to talk to him, but she had no such intention. She spun on her heel and started running in the opposite direction. The truck door slammed behind her and she heard Nate call out, “Claire!”

She turned slowly, earbuds still in place. “I’m running, Nate. What do you want?”

“I just want to talk to you,” he said. His face was difficult to read, and she wasn’t about to come near him if he was angry.

“What could we possibly have to say to each other, Nate?” _And why the hell are you awake and driving around my neighborhood when I left you passed out in your truck like 6 hours ago?_

“Can you just get in the truck?”

Claire crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at him. “No. I told you, I’m running.”

Nate wasn’t used to being told no. His eyes narrowed and she could tell he was puzzling out what to do next. “You talked to my dad.”

“Yeah,” she affirmed, suspicious. “So? Did he give you shit about being drunk?”

He didn't answer. “Just get in the truck, Claire.” His eyes darted around, as if he was afraid to be overheard. From what she knew of him, it was rare to see him this uncomfortable. She sighed deeply.

“I’m a sweaty mess,” she replied, gesturing up and down her body.

Nate’s eyes followed, seeing her anew even though after her dress-less rescue effort the night before, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. “Just get in the truck,” he repeated.

Claire paused for a moment, considering. She didn’t know anything about Nate’s relationship with his dad. Maybe he regularly beat the shit out of him or something. That might explain Nate’s volatile temper. Claire felt a little guilty for speaking so candidly the night before. _Well, shit._ She started walking toward the truck and climbed into the passenger side just as Nate was getting back behind the wheel. He shifted the truck into gear as she looked at him expectantly.

“Well?” she prompted, when he didn’t answer. “Is your dad pissed at you or something?”

“No, he doesn’t care what I do, as long as I don't mess with his reputation.” Nate answered, face forward.

Claire frowned, annoyed. That was a weird answer, since she couldn't imagine Nate's dad not caring if he drunkenly wrecked his truck. “Well then what do you need to talk about? And why are we driving?”

“I don’t want to be late to football practice.”

 _Ohhhh football. No wonder he was up early._ Claire had been running the streets around the school since it was the only part of town she knew. She relaxed a little; Nate wasn’t stalking her or anything - it had just been a simple coincidence.

“You must be feeling like shit,” she laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“I’ve been worse.”

“So if your dad isn’t pissed at you, why bring him up?” Claire kept her eyes on the road, and Nate did, too.

“He asked me a lot of questions about you.”

Claire scoffed. “Well, I’m sure that was fruitless since you don’t know anything about me.”

“He liked you,” Nate said, glancing over at her for the first time.

“I delivered his drunk son back to him safely. Probably saved him some face in the community, since apparently that's important.” She shrugged. “No big surprise there.”

“He doesn’t like Maddy.” Nate was frowning now, eyes forward again.

Claire studied his profile. “But you do. So who cares what your dad thinks?”

“My dad is an important person in this town, as you’ll probably discover soon.”

Claire wasn’t at all sure where this was supposed to be going. “Okay, thanks for the warning. It’s still your life.”

He looked over at her. “It’s not that simple.”

Claire sighed. “It never is. Look, Nate, I’m not sure what you expect me to do, here. I’m just trying to go for a run.” _And make it through my senior year without getting dragged into any drama so I can get the hell out of this nuthouse._ “Just let me out up here,” she gestured to the corner they were approaching. “And I’ll find my way home.”  
Nate still seemed conflicted, but he braked as directed and Claire popped the door open and stepped out, practically jumping down onto the pavement.

“It’s probably better if you stay away from me, and my family,” Nate said, but there was some uncertainty in his voice.

Claire didn’t hesitate, however. “Yeah, I’m getting that. Not a problem.” She slammed the door of the truck and waved a somewhat perfunctory wave with a disingenuous smile plastered on her face. Nate stared down at her, unmoving, so she turned and started jogging in the opposite direction with her music back on, resisting the urge to turn around to see how long he parked there at the corner with his foot on the brake.

The rest of the weekend was mercilessly Nate-free, except for one unwelcome time when he crept into her dream and she found herself entangled in his arms, his soft lips and hot breath all over her bare skin. She woke up in a sweat, both embarrassed and angry. Claire shook off the memory quickly and pounded her thoughts into submission with the rhythm of her sneakers on the pavement again. Her runs were getting longer and more frequent with the addition of these new stressors in her life. She mixed in some sprints, searching for the feeling of almost being able to fly that she sometimes got when she went fast enough.

But Monday morning came too quickly, and she found herself standing in front of her closet trying to figure out what to wear that would draw the least attention in her direction. She’d resolved to fly under the radar as much as possible for the next 9 months or so -- just long enough to graduate. Be a loner. Focus on running and college applications and her own interests. Keep in touch with her core friends so she’d stay grounded. She’d already called Kacey and given her the lowdown on the Nate situation, and Claire’s friend had been right on the money, as always: “That dude sounds like a walking disaster. Stay far, far away.”

Claire pulled her favorite vintage t-shirt off its hanger and shrugged it over her head; it was soft and threadbare from uncountable washings, but she imagined it still smelled a little like her mother. It always made her feel safe. She pulled on loose-fitting jeans and a pair of simple flats. In the bathroom, Claire stared at herself in the mirror for a minute or so. She washed her face but decided against makeup of any kind; then, with determination, she dug through the drawers of the console and found a stray hair tie. She wrestled her hair into a low ponytail and flicked off the light. She walked to school; her runs had taught her it was a lot closer than she’d originally suspected, and the exercise lifted her spirits in preparation for what would surely be a long day.

Maddy found her right away. "I heard you and Nate went home together after the party.” Her nice-girl demeanor had vanished, replaced by an all-too-familiar accusatory frown.

Claire resisted the urge to squint against the glare off her lip gloss. “Not quite. It was more like I left and went to the lake, then he showed up and almost drowned himself. So I dragged his drunk ass out of the lake, drove him home, and left him at his front door.” Claire watched how this was received. Maddy simmered down a little, but still seemed unsatisfied. “He was rambling about you the whole time, so maybe you should go talk to him about it.” She added. _A little white lie won’t hurt_ , she thought.

A small smile crept into the corner of Maddy’s lip. “Well, thanks, I guess. I was so drunk. I think I blacked out.” She said the last bit as if she was testing it.

“Yeah, no problem. Wild party.”

“Yeah!” Maddy agreed vehemently. “I’d better go find Nate.”

“Good idea,” Claire said, managing a smile. Maddy walked away, and the smile faded fast. Already Claire was sick of this place. She looked up and saw that Rue chick grinning at her with a look on her face like, _I know exactly what you’re thinking, and it’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard_. Claire shrugged, and Rue shrugged back.  
 _At least one person gets it_ , Claire chuckled darkly to herself. But she was content with that. She didn’t need to go chat up Rue and her new best friend Jules about it. She just cracked open her algebra book and pretended to be absorbed by her homework.

The urge to go running had been building all day, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. So when the bell for the last period rang, Claire surged out of her seat like she’d been electrocuted. She dropped off most of her books in her locker and made a beeline for the door. Just as she was almost outside, she heard a loud voice calling her name. Slowly, she turned around, and saw a woman in a tracksuit jogging down the corridor toward her. She had no idea who this person was, but at least it wasn’t Nate, who she had managed to studiously avoid all day, even in chemistry where - thankfully - there had been no lab work, just straight lecture (which had allowed her to keep her eyes forward and even the small talk with Finn down to a minimum).

“You’re Claire, right?” the woman asked, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Yeah,” she grudgingly acknowledged.

“Mr. Frederick, the P.E. teacher, tells me you like to run.”

“Uh huh,” Claire conceded, somewhat noncommittally.

“Well, I’m the girls’ track coach, and we need a quality sprinter. Can I convince you to try out for the team?”

“I’m more of a distance runner,” Claire replied, looking for an out.

“Well, I’d like to see what you can do anyway,” the coach prompted. “How about you walk with me over to practice and I’ll explain a few things, then maybe you can throw on a uniform and do a few sprints.”

Claire sighed. She didn’t want to turn the woman down outright, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea. Still, she new from practice that getting on the wrong side of any adult at a new school wasn't advisable. “Okay,” she agreed, thinking maybe it would help pass the time. There was no chance of crossing Nate’s path on the women’s track and field team, and Maddy was a cheerleader, so she could avoid her, too.

The coach chattered brightly as they walked out to the track, but when she opened the doors leading out of the school, Claire froze. _Stupid_ , she berated herself, when she realized the track circled the football field and that the cheerleaders were practicing right next to it. Both Nate and Maddy in one place. But Claire had to dutifully follow as the coach walked her over to the team and introduced a few of the other girls. Claire felt suddenly self-conscious, aware as she had been all day that her jeans were hanging a little too low on her hips (she’d lost some weight with all the running and just the lack of routine in a new place) and exposing a little too much skin under the hem of her t-shirt if she didn’t hike up her pants every few minutes. Just being a new person in the space, interrupting the routines, Claire felt like all eyes were on her, and her midriff was a burning ring of unwanted attention.

The track coach didn’t notice. She reached into a bag and drew out a pair of boyshorts and a tank top printed with the school’s name and the number 22. “Just throw these on over in the locker room and we’ll run a few drills, ok?”

Claire reached out and took them, knowing already that she would do just about anything to avoid having to join the track team and run laps around the field where Nate was practicing with the football team every day wearing this revealing uniform. “I don’t have any shoes,” she announced, hoping that would be a deal-breaker.

“It’s fine - the team gets a variety of sizes in matching colors every year. There should be some new socks and shoes in your size in the locker room. It’s just through there,” she said cheerily, gesturing in the direction of the end of the field where several doors led back into the school.

Slowly, Claire trudged toward the doors. Maybe if she just got this over with quickly, she could make some injury excuse and get out of it. She wasn’t the type who would fake incompetence; despite the circumstances, that still felt below her dignity. Caught up in her thoughts, she found herself somewhat angrily stripping off her jeans and t-shirt in the locker room and wrestling open the nearest locker to throw them into. She flung open the familiar door (she’d run track at several previous schools), but it was in use, so she moved on to the next one. She’d opened a few lockers looking for an empty one before she realized they were all filled with men’s clothes. She looked up, then, more aware of her surroundings, just as Nate Jacobs walked in through the double doors leading to the field. He stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly scanning her from head to toe as she stood there in her underwear and matching bra.

“You’re in the wrong locker room,” he drawled, clearly amused.

“So I gathered,” Claire retorted, glancing over at her piled clothes on the bench beside her, just out of reach.

He strolled over to her, perfectly comfortable despite her clear discomfort. _Or maybe because of it, knowing Nate,_ she mused. He seemed to be the kind of person who enjoyed the feeling of power he got from being around people who were uncomfortable in his presence. Up close, Nate was _a lot_ taller than her, which was rare, since she was fairly tall, and also because it was rare in general for high school-aged boys to be as tall as Nate. He was probably a solid 6’5’’, a height more appropriate for a basketball player than a quarterback. As he neared, Claire took an instinctual step back, but she stumbled over her discarded flats and almost lost her balance. With frightening speed, Nate reached out one long arm and caught her around the bicep, steadying her but also pulling her closer. His other hand reached out and swept along her hairline down to where her ponytail had fallen over her shoulder. He closed his fingers around the slippery, heavy column of hair and pulled it forward slightly, letting it fan over his palm like molten gold before placing it behind her again. Rather than pull his hand away, he rested it on her neck and slid it over her shoulder and down her arm, lifting up her forearm till his fingers brushed hers. Claire shuddered, unsettled both by the way he took such liberties with her body and by how she responded unconsciously, like she had done in her dreams.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’m not quite sure,” he responded, dropping his hands to her waist and pulling her against him as he bent his head toward her upraised face. His lips closed over hers lightly, and she shut her eyes for a moment, allowing it, but then she stepped back, turning her face away. Nate’s featherlight touch hardened, pressing her against him as he grabbed her chin and kissed her more insistently. Claire broke away a second time, pushing against his chest in its uniform padding. _Number 22,_ she noticed. _Like me._

“Nate, stop” she commanded, her voice firm even if her will wasn’t, and he obediently released her.

“You should get dressed,” he said, picking up the track uniform from the bench beside them and handing it to her as if nothing had happened. “Then I’ll show you how to get to the girls’ locker room.”

Shaken, she nodded, and he turned away respectfully as she hurriedly pulled on the uniform, which suddenly felt like a comforting blanket. She balled her regular clothes under her arm and slipped on her shoes as Nate walked her toward the opposite end of the room from the doors.

“Out there, turn left, and turn left again. You’ll see the door for the women’s locker room. It opens out onto the field, too, which is probably why you got confused.” He smiled slightly, as if deciding. “The doors are right next to each other, and I noticed you went in the wrong one.”

Claire paused. “You were watching me?”

He shrugged, his sly smile admitting as much without shame or apology.

“Well you should get back to practice before anyone _else_ notices you were following me,” she hinted, and Nate’s eyes narrowed. She could tell he was still mad at Maddy, and she wasn’t about to be used as a pawn in that twisted game.

She spun on her heel and headed left, peeking around to make sure no one saw her emerging from the boys’ locker room. Fortunately, the whole area was deserted since everyone else was on the field. Claire quickly found an empty locker and the shoes and socks the coach had been referring to. She pulled them on quickly (her exact size was even available; maybe she could get some free shoes out of the deal; her current pair was wearing out) and jogged out onto the track again, through the right door this time. Fortunately no one else seemed to have noticed that she’d gone in the wrong doors initially, and in her relief, she joined the team’s stretches without self-consciousness.

When the team started drills, she quickly got lost in the rhythm of running. They did one slow lap around the track to warm up, followed by one faster lap. By the time they were running timed sprints down the long straightaways, and Claire wasn’t thinking of Nate or Maddy at all. It was only when the coach had them pause to discuss their times when Claire looked up again. The cheerleaders were still practicing their routines with their backs mostly to the track group, but the football players were on a water break, and a small cluster of them (with Finn at the center) was watching her.

She stood up quickly from her wide-legged stretch and tugged at the high hem of the boyshorts on her lithe, muscled thighs. Finn waved from across the field and she frowned, raising one hand in a gesture that was more of an acknowledgement than a reciprocal wave, then crossed her arms over her chest and scooted closer to the group of runners. Her eyes cut over to Nate, easily identifiable since he was considerably taller than most of his teammates, who seemed to be staring daggers at Finn. Nate’s completely inappropriate sense of ownership over her was obvious, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before Maddy noticed. _Fuckety fuck fuck fuck_ she chanted mentally as the coach had them run a few more sprints, repeating it like a mantra in time with her feet hitting the ground.

Nate, normally so accustomed to being in complete control, was a little rattled by the intensity of emotion this new girl kindled. She didn’t meet his typical standards in many ways - hyperfeminine, tiny, mostly submissive, adoring; she was feminine, but there was strength to her, and she wasn’t the type who would easily submit - but something about her drew him to her with an irresistible gravity. He felt protective of her the way he’d felt protective of Maddy at the beginning, before she’d done all the crazy shit she’d done recently to piss him off. She’d told him the only reason she hooked up with that guy at the party was because she’d been black-out drunk, and he’d wanted to believe that narrative to keep the perfect, vulnerable image of her that he loved best. Plus, it gave him permission to fuck with that douchebag, which excited him perhaps more than he was willing to admit to himself. Nate told himself it was justice because thinking it might be anything else just led him to dark places. But he kept returning to Claire in his mind like pressing on a bruise; he couldn’t stop even though he wasn’t sure he liked the sensation at all. As soon as Claire was out of sight, he craved her. Nate laughed a little, wondering if this is how Rue felt most of her life.


	3. The Carnival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire's dad drags her to the carnival. She goes, hoping her dad is insurance enough against encountering Nate again. Of course, her plan backfires.

Nate had to help his father run his famous chili tent at the carnival, a chore he hated but knew he couldn’t escape. It was all a show for his dad and his dad’s “pillar of the community” persona, but Nate always played that role better than his brother Aaron, so he knew he couldn’t bow out. The continued success of Nate’s relatively good relationship with his dad hinged upon him being the right kind of son: the starting quarterback, the handsome gentleman, the student who didn’t make waves. Cal wanted him to be “the dutiful boyfriend” too, but Maddy didn’t quite fit Cal’s desired image of an ideal girlfriend. She was too edgy, too “ethnic,” and not motivated to make anything of herself other than arm candy. Cal tolerated her because she was pretty, and for now that was good enough. But Nate knew what he really thought. So Nate was helping serve chili when Claire and her dad came up to the tent. 

Claire’s dad was genuinely enthusiastic about chili. He’d been on one of his rare “let’s go engage with the community” kicks today. He was often so busy with work that he didn’t even think of these kinds of things, but every once in a while he remembered that part of his “dad” job was to help Claire integrate into their newest social circle, something he didn’t realize Claire no longer needed him to do. 

“Let’s go to the carnival!” he suggested, eyes alight. “Remember when we used to go with Mom?” Claire’s mother’s death was no longer a source of agonizing pain for either of them. They’d gotten to a point where reminiscing about her sort of kept her with them, which they both enjoyed. That’s the thing about Claire’s little family that set her apart from most others in East Highland: they didn’t have any dark secrets. Claire and her dad talked openly about most things. They’d been through a lot, but they had healthy coping mechanisms. Nothing deeply buried; nothing dark and twisty. Just relatively normal occasional tension between a teenage girl and her widowed father. Claire was mostly self-sufficient, and she appreciated that her dad trusted her to take care of herself. He’d been around a lot more when she was younger and when she needed him more. Now he respected her space and dove into his work, and she rewarded him with honesty and trustworthiness. So when her dad had seemed so nostalgic and happy about the prospect of a carnival, Claire had only rolled her eyes slightly and agreed to go. Her dad’s presence was good insurance against any funny business from Nate anyway. 

“Look! A chili tent!” Claire’s dad announced. “You think it’s as good as mine?” He winked at her, dragging her along by a hand as they wove through the crowd. She realized who was running it only after they had come to a stop in front of Cal Jacobs and Claire caught sight of Nate behind him. 

“Two cups of chili, please!” she heard her dad announce cheerily. 

“Coming right up,” Cal Jacobs replied as he scooped and exchanged the full cups for cash. “Claire, is this your father?”

Her dad glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. She gave him a look that meant, _I’ll tell you in a second_ , then turned a beaming smile toward Cal.

“Yes, it is. Mr. Jacobs is Nate’s dad. He comes to all of the football games.”

“Pleased to meet you!” Her dad extended a hand over the stand, and the two men shook firmly. “I’m Teddy McCann. And you know Claire.” Cal gestured to Nate, who walked over dutifully.

“This is my son Nate,” Cal was saying as Nate also shook Claire’s dad’s hand. “And over there is his older brother Aaron and his mom, Marsha,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Claire and her dad waved. Unexpectedly, Aaron stood up from his spot by the register and meandered over to their gathering as Marsha helped another customer on the other side of the tent. Claire didn’t know that Nate had a brother, so she watched him curiously while her dad and Cal Jacobs made small talk. He was handsome, though in a very different way than his brother or his father: more of an old-school, 50s Hollywood vibe. He was about his father’s height, a few inches shorter than Nate, which was still very tall. Her dad’s 6’0’’ stature made him look like a Hobbit next to the towering Jacobs clan. Aaron must be of college age, but unless he went to school very close to East Highland, it would be unusual for him to be home in the middle of the early fall, even on a weekend. Cal seemed to treat him as second string to Nate, so Claire wondered how this son had disappointed him. Aaron was studying her, too, and Nate noticed. He balled his fists slightly as Aaron’s eyes stayed fixed on Claire. Suddenly, Aaron reached over the tent’s countertop and - during a slight lull in the conversation - said, “Mr. McCann, was it?” 

Claire’s dad smiled and grasped the older boy’s hand, shaking firmly. “That’s right. And you’re Aaron? Have you met my daughter Claire?”

“I have not,” he said, but he nodded in her direction. “Are you a senior at East Highland, too?”

“Yes,” she answered, somewhat formally. 

“I graduated two years ago.” He smiled slightly. “Graduation will be here before you know it.”

Claire laughed, understanding his meaning - a reassurance that high school wouldn’t last forever vs. a suggestion to treasure the time that remained - perfectly. 

“Not soon enough,” she replied. “I’m excited for college.” 

Cal’s ears perked up, sensing an ambition that appealed to him. “Where are you applying?” 

Her dad answered for her. “Claire’s looking at UCLA, Berkeley, Pomona, Occidental, and Stanford. What am I forgetting?” He turned to her, shrugging. “Despite the fact that I’ve dragged her all over the country, she somehow manages to stay on top of her classes. She definitely got her mom’s brains.” Cal Jacobs raised his eyebrows in surprise and approval. 

Claire, accustomed to her dad’s boasting on her behalf but not particularly interested in Nate knowing anything else about her, changed the subject. “He’s lying. He’s an engineer who’s good enough at his job to be requested at various special projects all over the country. Hence why we live like gypsies.” She glanced over at him. “But we’d better dig into this chili before it gets cold. I hear Mr. Jacobs makes the best chili in the county, and we have to give it its due attention, right, Dad?” 

“We do indeed!” her father agreed, raising his chili like a toast. “Nice to meet y’all.” Claire waved and looped her arm into the crook of her father’s as she steered him away. 

“Good lookin’ group,” her dad teased as they walked away. Claire rolled her eyes theatrically for his benefit. 

“Yeah, but Nate’s a hot mess. I know his dad because he got trashed at a party I went to and I had to drive him home so he didn’t kill himself or anyone else. Cal gave me a ride home after.” 

Teddy guffawed. “You’re kidding! That’s my girl. No wonder his dad seemed to think you hung the moon.” He nudged her with his elbow. “And the older brother was pretty impressed by you, too. Better steer clear or else you might kick off some sibling rivalry.”

Claire laughed, slipping into the southern drawl that her Arkansas-born dad always brought out in her. “I reckon that existed long before I showed up. Trust me, I’ll keep my distance.”

Her dad shoveled a spoonful of chili into his mouth. “You know how to handle yourself, Rey-Rey.” This was an old nickname for her, and it always made her smile. He, on the other hand, grimaced. “Too much salt. Not enough heat.”

“My dad, the chili connoisseur,” she chuckled. 

He surreptitiously looked around before chucking the rest of the chili cup in the trash. Claire’s was right behind. “Let’s go ride the Tilt-a-Whirl,” he suggested, and they dashed off in the direction of her favorite ride. 

Nate was quietly fuming. He’d come across Maddy wearing some kind of ridiculous slut ensemble earlier in the night, and then his brother had made a scene about cozying up to Claire and her dad, probably sensing Cal’s approval and looking for a wedge to drive between him and Nate. Aaron couldn’t do much of anything right in his dad’s eyes - he’d never been a stellar student or a football star, and though he had never really pissed their dad off, he had never impressed him, either. Cal was a man who needed to be impressed. If Aaron could score Claire, he’d have the one thing Nate didn’t: a trophy girlfriend Cal approved of. It was hard enough that his brother suddenly found the balls to scheme; he had to pick the one person who had captivated Nate for reasons he didn’t fully understand. The whole situation just set Nate off. He excused himself from the chili tent and wandered around the carnival with no conscious agenda, but on a deeper level, he was looking for Claire. It didn’t take too long to find her; he could hear her musical laughter as she and her dad got off the Tilt-a-Whirl, a sound he recognized despite never having heard it before. Claire and her dad circled around the ride and got straight back into line, Claire dragging on her dad’s arm slightly while he clutched at his stomach in a comically exaggerated way. 

“The line’s long enough that you’ll be fine by the time we get up there,” she was saying, her voice carried by the wind. She was smiling, relaxed - two things Nate hadn’t seen since she came to East Highland. Her face was flushed and her long hair was slightly mussed, and Nate thought she looked perfectly beautiful. She was wearing an off-white v-cut blouse with a flowing ruffle around the neck, very 70s, and her toned midriff was showing again at the top of accidentally low-slung jeans. He drew in a sharp breath and shook his head slightly as if that might clear his mind of Claire, squeezing his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Claire’s easy, carefree air was gone. She was standing in line talking to Finn and a group of his friends, her eyes slightly narrowed and her brow furrowed. Her dad, on the other hand, was beaming. Finn was in a group of three, and Claire’s dad was clearly doing the math. Nate watched the body language from afar: Claire clung to her dad’s arm while Teddy gestured between Claire and Finn, enclosing them in an air circle with one pointed finger before he circled the other two football guys. Then he shrugged, putting his hands out helplessly as if to say, _Two and two! It just makes sense!_ Finn was nodding eagerly, leaning toward Claire. She was talking fast, trying to convince her dad to stay, but he winked at her and handed her arm off to Finn, clearly pleased with himself. He had picked up on the fact that Finn was into Claire, but he had either failed to see how _not_ into Finn Claire was, or he was intent on teasing her and knew she could hold her own. Probably the latter. Then, Claire’s dad was ducking under the ropes structuring the line, pointing to his watch, arranging a meet-up later at the funnel cake stand he was heading for. Claire, her face out of Finn’s line of sight, was scowling thunderously at her dad while he raised his eyebrows and shrugged playfully. Resigned, Claire turned to face Finn, carefully extricating her hand from the crook of his elbow where Teddy had placed it when he left. The whole scene just notched Nate’s anger up a level, so before he knew it, he was striding over to the group. 

“Lee, I just saw Lisa; she’s looking for you,” Nate said icily, staring down the sophomore kicker in Finn’s friend group who he knew had a neurotic girlfriend. 

“Shit,” Lee cursed, immediately ducking under the rope and offering it up to Nate, who let it fall but then stepped over it; he was too tall to easily duck under. 

Claire, who had been racking her brain for some way to excuse herself from Finn and hunt down her dad to chew him out, sighed deeply when Nate arrived. This didn’t escape him, but his rage inexplicably cooled when she turned her gaze up to meet his. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said sarcastically. “Had enough chili?”

“Enough for a lifetime,” he responded flatly, lost for a moment in thought as images of his carefully cultivated familial bliss and the corruption it covered bubbled up unsolicited. When he resurfaced, Claire was looking at him curiously. 

“I didn’t like it that much, either,” she said, half-jokingly. “Though your brother seems nice.” 

His eyes cut over to her sharply, assessing. 

“He’s an oxygen thief,” Nate replied. Claire barked a laugh, surprised by the term and Nate’s bluntness.

“Geez, tell me how you really feel. He can’t be that bad.”

“He isn’t bad. He just isn’t… anything else.” Talking about his brother made Nate angry again. He wondered for the thousandth time if Aaron knew anything about their dad’s video tapes. Nate was almost disgusted by the ignorance if he didn’t. But he knew he would be furious if Aaron did. An older brother was supposed to protect a younger one from shit like that. 

Claire was studying Nate, who was moody and deep in his thoughts tonight. She wondered why his family seemed to disquiet him so much; they looked like a normal American family, almost too stereotypically perfect. She could only guess what sort of things went on behind closed doors at the Jacobs house. The line had moved up while they talked, and Finn was trying to reinsert himself into the conversation that had suddenly become between Claire and Nate alone. 

“Claire, it’s almost our turn!” he announced, stepping closer to her despite Nate’s scowl. Claire felt almost playful all of a sudden, trying to imagine Nate squeezing his enormous frame into one of the ride’s half-spheres, and almost laughed aloud when she pictured him sitting there stonily with a frown on his face while the ride spun crazily. 

“I’ll ride with Nate on this one,” she heard herself saying, and then Nate was looking down at her with something like astonishment overwriting his expression. He was not a fan of carnival rides, partially because they were not designed for someone of his stature and half of them he couldn’t even fit onto. Fortunately - or unfortunately - the Tilt-a-Whirl was one of the few he could manage. When Nate noticed that Finn was regarding him with uncertainty, he nodded stiffly in agreement. Finn’s face fell - and there was a hint of anger behind his eyes - but he played it cool. 

Claire led the light banter between the four of them for the remaining minutes it took to get to the front of the line, then she found herself leading Nate Jacobs to one of the fiberglass semi-spheres. Only when she was seated next to Nate - a space the width of another rider between them - did she remember that it’s almost impossible not to end up crushed against the person on the outer seat when the ride starts. Nate reached a very long arm across her lap and buckled the long seat belt across both of them, then the ride operator came around to pull down the lap bar and secure it next to Nate’s right leg. 

“I haven’t been on one of these since I was a kid,” he said, and Claire could detect a hint of hesitation in his voice. 

“Did you like it then?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment’s reflective thought. 

“Well, maybe you’ll like it again,” she suggested, softly. “Either that or you’ll puke,” she added, laughing. 

“Here goes nothing,” Nate replied, almost lightly, and Claire saw a hint of the boy he might have been, had whatever made him so dark not happened. 

The ride lurched to a start, and Claire found herself clutching onto the lap bar, trying to keep herself from sliding along the seat directly into Nate’s left side. As their car picked up speed, spinning around in what felt like wilder circles than before - perhaps due to the fact that Nate was considerably heavier than her father - Claire slipped closer and closer. She had a white-knuckled grip on the lap bar, trying to be unobtrusive in her desperation not to let any part of her body touch Nate. But he reached his left arm around her shoulders and gripped the hand bar, too, essentially dragging her against his chest. Claire gave up as her hip and thigh pushed against Nate’s and her body folded into the space under his arm; there was no point fighting the centrifugal motion, and trying to so obviously just made things more awkward. Her resignation turned to glee: _when the fight is lost, why not enjoy it_? This had always been her favorite ride. She threw her head back and laughed, still holding onto the lap bar with her left hand, but her right was braced on Nate’s thigh with a certain intimacy that was not entirely unwelcome. She could go back to avoiding Nate Jacobs after this ride was over; for now, she was going to enjoy the dizzy spinning and the feeling of his solid bulk beside her. Claire was surprised to feel the rumble of a laugh in his chest, and as she looked up at him, a swath of her long hair swept across his face in the wind, and he laughed harder, swatting it playfully away with his right hand. A genuine smile crossed his face, and Claire smiled back, surprised by how contagious his authentic, if momentary, happiness could be. Nate’s hand left the lap bar and he wrapped her entirely in his one-armed embrace, his hand reaching down to cradle her elbow and hug her snugly so she tilted closer to him and her right palm came to rest on his nearest pectoral. Claire fit perfectly against him, her cheek against his chest and her shoulder under his, and for a moment she closed her eyes and breathed him in: a heady, masculine scent with a piney, spicy edge. Despite the five-alarm bells he set off in her head, Nate Jacobs was intoxicatingly handsome, Claire admitted. Luckily, she was not out of her league, and she wasn’t planning on falling for him. 

The ride was slowing, though Claire’s head kept on spinning. As they regained full freedom of movement, unchained from the centrifugal motion, Claire felt Nate’s right hand brush her hair out of her face then the featherlight trail of his fingers down her jawline. She closed her eyes and let him draw her lips up to his, and when his mouth brushed over hers, she kissed back. The kiss intensified, seemingly without full volition from either of them. Claire’s mouth opened to Nate’s probing tongue, and they didn’t break apart till both were breathless and gasping. The ride was winding down and their car swung like a pendulum; one of Nate’s hands was holding Claire’s bare breast under her shirt and the other was caught in the hair at the base of her neck. Shocked, Claire pushed back against Nate and slid to the other end of the bench, pulling her shirt into place over skin that burned from his touch. He spoke first.

“That was better than I remembered.”

Despite herself, Claire laughed. “Well, it’s over now. Back to reality.”

He knew what she meant - their kiss was a moment of realized fantasy that had passed; she expected to relate to him as if it had never happened. It wasn’t that simple, but he could play along.

“Yep. Back to chili.” He said it with melodramatic finality that she knew he didn’t entirely mean.

Claire laughed again, regarding him sideways with a new appreciation. Nate had a funny side, no doubt. It didn’t mean she trusted him. If anything, she trusted him less; he’d broken through some of the defenses she thought were stalwart. As soon as the ride operator released the lap bar, she stood, slithering out of the long seatbelt that served little purpose anyway. She glanced over at Finn’s car, which had come to a stop facing hers. He was watching her intently, and she hoped fervently he hadn’t seen her kissing Nate. She immediately strode over to his car, announcing,

“I’m all yours next. I have to go meet up with my dad first, though.”

Finn’s face lit up. “Sure. See you later?”

Claire nodded even though she had no intention of keeping the promise; she was going to find her dad and march them both straight out of the carnival. She made a beeline for the Tilt-a-Whirl exit, deliberately not looking back at Nate. 

Claire’s rendezvous with her dad wasn’t for 20 more minutes, so she wandered around the carnival alone for a while, doing her best to avoid the East Highland teen scene. Her senior class was out in force tonight, but fortunately no one except Finn seemed determined to bring her into their social circle. She was happily playing skeeball by herself when someone walked up behind her left side and announced, “Skeeball’s my favorite, too.”

Claire turned just long enough to see Aaron standing at the game to her left, feeding quarters into the mechanism. The balls on his side rolled down noisily and he landed a few 50 pointers in a row. Her game ended so she watched his. He never got below a 30. Claire crossed her arms over her chest.

“Guess sports run in the family,” she observed. “Or maybe just hand-eye coordination,” she revised, not sure if skeeball counted as “sports.” Aaron shrugged, a half-smile on his face.

“I guess. Never really played anything in school, though. I’m not very competitive.”

Claire laughed, mentally comparing him to Nate, who seemed inclined to make a competition out of everything. 

“Are you sure you’re related to Nate Jacobs?” she asked. 

Aaron returned the laugh. “Sometimes I wonder about that myself,” he replied. “One more game?” He held out two quarters, and Claire let him drop them into her open palm. They played alongside each other silently for a few minutes, each watching the other out of the corner of their eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Aaron affirmed as they finished out the round. Her score was only 40 points shy of his. 

She turned to face him. “Lots of carnivals.” 

“Yeah, you moved around a lot, I hear. I’ve never lived anywhere but East Highland. What’s the rest of the world like?” His voice was almost wistful.

“Honestly, the scenery changes, but the people don’t. Not much anyway. The same dramas, the same jealousies, the same ambitions.” She paused. “Here’s a little different, though.”

Aaron was interested. “How so?”

Claire frowned, not sure how to articulate it. “The crazy is a little more apparent here.”

Aaron guffawed, nodding his head in agreement. “That’s for sure.” 

Claire, growing bored with the small talk, cut right to the chase. “Take your brother, for instance. Has he always been like that?”

“Like what, exactly?” he asked, but it was a rhetorical question because as soon as Claire opened her mouth to speak, Aaron was filling in the blanks. “Arrogant? Sociopathic? Ruthless? Angry? Fucking miserable?” There was bitterness in his voice now.

“Well, yeah.”

“He used to be a sweet kid. Around, 11, 12, something changed.” Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know what. We used to talk, but he barely says anything to me now. Every once in a while I try to figure out what it was - whether it was me - but I can’t remember doing anything to him. Maybe it was something I didn’t do.” He put out his hands helplessly. 

_ The mystery of Nate Jacobs continues,  _ she mused, but changed the subject. “What about you?”

He glanced over at her, smiling slightly again. “What about me?”

“Are you in college? Do you work? Who are you, Aaron Jacobs?” Claire asked teasingly. They were walking through the crowds now, in step with one another. 

“I’m taking a few classes at the community college. And I work for my dad part-time. As for the rest, well, maybe if we hang out a little, you’ll find out.” 

Claire snorted through her nose. “Well, you seem a little more normal than your brother, so maybe.”

“And you seem a little too mature for the high school crowd,” Aaron observed cannily. 

Claire smiled. “It sure feels that way sometimes.” 

“Well, when you tire of the drama, you should text me. What’s your number? I’ll send you a text so you can have mine,” Aaron said casually, pulling his phone out of his pocket and waiting expectantly. Claire didn’t really see the harm, so she recited her number as he tapped it into his contacts and then composed a short message to her. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket with the familiar vibration of an incoming text. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and grinned at her boyishly. 

“I know all the best crappy diners. The ones that don’t have health code violations and stay open all night. Believe me, diner food can be better than therapy.”

Claire chuckled. “I have a feeling after a few months here, I’ll need both.” She sighed, breathing in the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. They turned a corner and Claire recognized the area; the chili tent was directly in front of her. Cal and Nate both noticed them right as Aaron turned to face her and caught her hand in his. He lifted it up to his lips and brushed her knuckles with a light kiss.

“This is my stop,” he said, his eyes dancing over the top of her hand. “Nice chatting, Claire McCann.” He spun on his heel and headed back to the tent as Nate watched with a black expression on his face and Cal stood with his eyebrows raised. 

_ Hope that was worth whatever Nate is going to do to him later,  _ Claire thought, raising one hand to wave to the group as she turned and headed back toward the Tilt-a-Whirl, hoping that would help her find the funnel cake stand where her father had said to meet. She pulled out her phone to check the time and saw a text from an unrecognized number:  _ This is the East Highland emergency line. Call in the event of excessive douchebaggery.  _ Claire burst out laughing, quickly saving the contact as “AJ.” 

Claire had had just about enough of East Highland for the night, so as soon as she spotted her dad, she convinced him it was time to go back home. 


	4. Claire puts her foot down

_ NOTE: In this version, Nate doesn’t choke Maddy; they just disagree and she avoids him and his family during the carnival, opting to take solace in the girls.  _

Claire hadn’t managed to think of an excuse to get out of track yet, so she found herself at practice yet again on the Monday after the carnival. She’d avoided Nate and Maddy all day even though there seemed to be a chilly distance between them and they were seldom together. Claire couldn’t help overhearing that they’d had some sort of blow-up at the carnival over Maddy’s choice of outfit. To be frank, he seemed a little disgusted by her and she was defiant, but there was searching in her eyes when she looked at him. Claire, on the other hand, kept seeing Nate out of the corner of her eye and got the impression he was trying to find an opportunity to talk to her, but she always turned the other way before he could. Claire poured her energy into the afternoon run and didn’t even bother to change out of her track uniform or pick up her books from her locker; she’d done all of her homework already during her solitary lunch and afternoon study hall. Instead, she decided she would run home since it wasn’t far to her house. She waved to the girls on the team and jogged off the track, trying to ignore both Finn’s and Nate’s eyes burning into her back from the football field. 

She was halfway home when she detoured into a small park that she hadn’t explored, slowing to a walk and then stretching out under a tree. It was a hot afternoon but the shade under the trees and the cool grass against the exposed skin on the back of her arms was the perfect anecdote. Claire closed her eyes and took deep breaths, listening as her heartbeat slowed. 

Soft fingers brushed her lips, and she smiled slightly, half-asleep and leaning into the fantasy. The fingers trailed over her collarbones, down her arm, and between her elbow and waist. A forearm pressed into her side as it took on the weight of a body that was braced over her prone form. Then there were warm lips on hers, coaxing out a kiss that felt dreamlike in its gentle insistence. Nate again, invading her sleep when she could least control her reaction to him. Claire’s brows knit and she moved closer to wakefulness but stubbornly refused to open her eyes. She could kiss Nate in her dreams.  _ No harm in that _ , she thought in some part of her brain that didn’t respond to reason. The lips on hers grew hungrier, more demanding, and Claire opened her mouth to gasp, but whoever was kissing her took that as an invitation. He pressed himself down on her chest, one leg trapping both of hers as he gathered her shoulders up in his arms and crushed her against him, stealing her breath with greedy kisses that started to feel decidedly un-dreamlike and very familiar. Claire’s eyes flew open and she pressed hard against the heavy bulk of --

Her heart stopped. Nate Jacobs. He was actually here, his chin scraping against her skin with the roughness of evening stubble as he broke away and nuzzled against her neck. He was on top of her, and when Claire squeaked in surprise and tried to leverage herself away from him with her palms on the grass, he didn’t move an inch. Claire took a few short, shallow breaths, frightened by how huge he seemed and how utterly ineffectual her attempts to free herself were. She writhed against him in sudden panic, pushing hard against his slightly upraised chest and leaning her head back to swallow free air like she was drowning. Breathless, she whispered,

“Nate, let me go, let me go!” 

He looked down at her quizzically, more intrigued than moved by her obvious distress. From what he’d seen, Claire was usually very calm and collected, so this was an unexpected development. Her squirming was a little arousing, he had to admit, and he tightened his grip. Claire gasped a few times again and said, “Please!” with something like terror in her eyes, and Nate relented. He slid his arms out from under her body and leaned back on his haunches, looking down at her as she shivered with a sudden chill. The sun had dipped low in the sky and taken the heat of the day with it; that combined with the dried sweat from her run and the sudden removal of the furnace of Nate’s body felt like being doused with a bucket of cold water. 

“What are you doing here? What time is it?” Claire demanded as she sat up and wrapped her arms around her waist, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. 

Nate shrugged. “A few hours after school.”

“What are you doing here?” She repeated. Then, accusingly, “Were you following me?” She narrowed her eyes and stared him down.

Nate gestured at his truck. “Just driving by.”

One lock of damp hair fell over his forehead and he brushed it back. He was freshly showered and suffused with that spicy, heady masculine scent that seemed to seep out of his pores, so he clearly hadn’t run off the field after her.

Somewhat placated, Claire nevertheless retorted, “Just innocently driving by and you decide to stop and molest sleeping people?”

He smiled one-sidedly. “You didn’t seem to mind at first.”

“Well, I do now!” she huffed, and looked at him askance. “I’m claustrophobic. You were crushing me.” 

He held up his hands like  _ don’t shoot. If he weren’t so handsome, he’d be a straight-up creeper, _ Claire mused. 

“Look, Nate,” she began, heeding the caution warnings creating butterflies in the cage of her ribs. “You can’t keep doing this shit. You’re dating Maddy, and I don’t want anything to do with…” she paused, at a momentary loss for words. “Any of that.”

“The body is willing but the mind is weak,” he replied with a quirked eyebrow that mocked his own seriousness, dodging her mention of Maddy entirely as he reached out and pulled a rope of her hair toward him.

“The mind is actually quite strong,” she corrected, frowning. “This isn’t good for either of us. You’ve got to leave me alone.” She stared at him as icily as she could manage. “I mean it, Nate.”

He ignored her. “You should stay away from my brother.”

“Why?” she demanded, scooting backward. “And what makes you think you have any right to tell me what to do?”

“Just stay away from him,” Nate repeated, his voice not quite threatening.

Her eyes widened with shock at his sheer audacity. “He can’t be any worse than you,” Claire spat back, standing up quickly and turning to walk away. Nate reached out and grabbed her around the upper arm, dragging her up against his chest. 

“Claire, I…” he didn’t finish the thought, and his expression was so genuinely conflicted Claire’s simmering anger cooled a little. She felt a little sorry for him as he brushed her cheek with his hand and ran the pad of his thumb over her lips in what was starting to be a calling card. 

“Nate,” she said, self-possessed again and as firmly as possible. “Let go of me.”

He held on for a moment longer, his deep brown eyes fixed on hers, then did as she said. “Let me take you home. It’s getting late.”

“That’s okay,” Claire refused. “My house isn’t fair.” She started to walk away.

“Claire!” he called out, running to her side and taking her hand. She stared at the joining of their hands so pointedly that he let go. “I just… want to protect you.”

“From what?” Claire cried out, spinning in a circle with her arms outstretched to take in the innocuous park. “The most dangerous thing here is you, Nate.”

He at least had the dignity to look crestfallen. “I won’t hurt you, Claire.” 

“Yes, you will.” Her green eyes were piercing in the falling dark. “You can’t help it. If you want to protect me, just leave me alone.” 

She left him standing there, watching her legs scissor from a jog to a sprint, until she was out of sight.


	5. Another party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire discovers that Maddy is a force to be reckononed with and Claire is saved from a compromising situation by two unlikely heroes.  
> Trigger Warning: Nonconsentual touching and implications of more.

Somewhat surprisingly, Nate listened. For a solid week, he didn’t show up unexpectedly, stealing kisses or touches. Claire was mostly relieved, but there was a small corner of her mind that felt the lack. He still watched her as she ran in the afternoons, but Claire was much more aware of Maddy’s gaze. More surprisingly, Maddy had not reconciled with Nate, and Claire could tell that she was growing increasingly desperate to draw his attention again. Maddy had started to notice how his eyes tracked Claire with an intensity he used to save for her, and Claire could sense the anger coming off her in waves. Maddy didn’t understand why Nate seemed to have lost interest in her, but she knew it had something to do with Claire. At first, she tried to play the friendship card, plying Claire for information with saccharine sweetness that presumed far more than their acquaintance allowed. Far too often, her questions strayed toward Nate, but Claire never had anything new to say. Rather than reassuring her, this convinced Maddy that Claire was hiding something, and her anger deepened. By the end of the week, she’d dropped her sweet act and was openly plotting against Claire with her group of girlfriends. Sometimes Claire even caught her flirting with Finn -- maybe hoping it would make Claire jealous? Claire chuckled inwardly. Maddy was an amateur at scheming. Claire did her best to ignore Maddy and her crew, keeping her head down and focusing on her afternoon runs and the occasional chat with Rue and Jules. She had her hands full most days fending off Finn’s increasingly forward overtures without pissing him off. All she needed was another enemy in East Highland. If it got much worse, she’d have to text Aaron for a dose of sanity. Sitting on a bench for outside lunch, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her texts till she saw the one he had sent her during the carnival. Claire sat with her phone in her lap, mentally testing out options. 

_Douchebaggery alert. Backup needed._

_I’m losing my mind._

_Diner food. STAT._

She sighed deeply, pocketing her phone after sending off a text to one of her far-flung real friends instead. When she looked up, Jules was sitting on the opposite end of the bench.

“So. Party tonight.” 

Claire rolled her eyes. _Not another East Highland party._

“C’mon…” Jules coaxed in her winning way. “Rue and I have to be able to count on some fun people being there.”

Claire regarded her silently. “Maybe.”

“Eeeeee!” Jules squealed, accepting this as confirmation. She handed off a paper with an address scrawled on it. “Come at 10. We’ll meet you out front.” She scampered off to link arms with Rue, nodding enthusiastically as Rue turned over her shoulder and smiled at Claire. 

Claire sat with the paper in her palm, considering. She had been rather bored lately, and with Nate managing to mind his manners, maybe she could relax a little. Her dad was on the jobsite all weekend, so she had the house to herself and a few cute dresses she hadn’t dared wear to school. Straightening her spine, Claire resolved to go to the party after all. 

  
  


At 10pm, wearing a jean skirt with a one-shouldered white top that hugged her narrow waist and a little lip gloss and mascara, Claire met Rue and Jules on the lawn of a nice house outside of the neighborhoods she was most familiar with. The fancy houses here were spaced out a little further apart, and as soon as she went inside she realized she was on the shore of the lake she’d originally dragged Nate out of -- just on the opposite side from the park. Something about the area seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Once inside, Claire found herself clutching a red Solo cup and mingling more than she’d ever done in East Highland -- mostly with Rue and Jules but also with the occasional guy from their circle who was comfortable being around her because he knew off the bat she was out of his league. She hadn’t seen Nate at all, and Maddy and her crew were keeping their distance, so Claire relaxed a little into the couch and sipped her beer. She was starting to feel a little lightheaded since she’d lost more weight and hadn’t had a drink since the first party. _Better slow down,_ she told herself, but stood up anyway as she drained the last of the cup, made her way through the tangle of legs of people seated around the L-shaped couch with her, and headed for the kitchen, where she figured the keg would be. She almost turned around when she saw Finn and a handful of other football players around it in a circle, but he saw her right away and bellowed, “Claaaaaire!”

She plastered a fake smile on her face and said, “Fiiiiiinn!” back at him.

He grinned widely and beckoned her over. “Welcome to my abode!” he said expansively, spreading his arms and looking around proudly.

“Oh, this is your house?” Claire asked, genuinely curious. It was a nice modern design - all clean lines and glass panels that she was sure were beautiful in the daytime overlooking the lake. 

“It is indeed! What can I get you?” He snatched the empty cup from her hand and looked inside with exaggerated care, then turned it over with a comically tragic expression. “More beer! Stand aside gents!” Finn carried her cup over to the keg and filled it as one of his football buddies sidled up next to her. 

“How come you never dress like that at school?” The new guy leered unpleasantly, a little unsteady on his feet, as he looked Claire up and down. Claire laughed uncomfortably, taking a step back as his beer breath washed over her.

“I’m too lazy,” she shrugged, accepting the cup back from Finn as he rejoined them. 

“Chill out, Hobbs,” he told his friend, pushing his shoulder back just enough to cause him to reel and stagger a little. Finn turned to Claire.

“Let me give you a tour. But first - cheers!” He held out his cup and she clinked the rim of hers against it, taking a long swallow. It wasn’t terrible beer, all things considered. Finn looped her unencumbered arm through his elbow and started steering her away from the busy kitchen. He chattered on as he led her through a series of rooms, avoiding the busy staircase and the darkened upstairs bedrooms. After they’d done the circuit of the living spaces downstairs, he opened a sliding glass door and followed her out onto an expansive deck. Finn offered her a chair and pulled up his own beside her, cheersing their cups one more time before they both turned to face the lake, which was calm and still except for the occasional shoreline wave. Even though they could hear the music and chatter from inside, it was still a welcome respite. Finn chattered on and Claire leaned her head back against the chair, as truly relaxed as she’d ever felt since coming to East Highland. She didn’t pay much attention to Finn’s small talk, just making the occasional hum of acknowledgement or barking a token laugh. She sipped her beer and enjoyed the sound of the lake water lapping and the silver gilding of moonlight, and before she knew it she had drained the cup.

“Ready for another?” Finn asked as she tipped back her head for the last drops, and as she rotated her face toward him, she noticed her eyelids were heavy and the air felt thick around her. _That’s odd,_ Claire observed in a detached way. She opened her mouth to respond and couldn’t seem to form words. Claire shook her head slightly in an attempt to clear it, then tried to coordinate her muscles to stand, but her legs felt like water. Her heart started beating wildly; she knew something was wrong, but time seemed out of sync. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text to the only contact she had saved from East Highland and which happened to be at the top of her contacts list: AJ. _In trouble. Party on the lake._ For the first time, she was thankful for Autocorrect as she pocketed her phone just before the world started to tilt crazily. Claire dropped her cup, reaching blindly and encountering Finn’s outstretched hands.

“Whoa,” he chuckled, seemingly unsurprised. “That’s potent stuff.” 

He was gathering her up in his arms and Claire felt him lift her off the chair and carry her toward the edge of the deck, stepping down carefully till he was walking across the grass toward a boathouse on the edge of the water. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision, and pushed weakly at Finn’s shoulders as he lay her down on a soft surface. 

“Our guesthouse. There’s a spare bed in here. Seems like you need a little rest,” Finn was saying as Claire struggled to raise her head. She heard a shrill ringing and suddenly Finn was talking to thin air.

“She’s here. Calm down, I’ll take care of it. I said I would, Maddy, now quit calling!”

 _Maddy?_ Claire wondered. Her limbs felt like lead. 

“Let’s make you a little more comfortable, shall we?” Finn’s voice seemed to be set to surround-sound. There was a strong tugging at her waist, and she felt her skirt slide down her thighs. _Maybe Maddy is better at scheming than I thought,_ Claire mused stupidly. Her brain felt like it was padded with cotton. When Finn’s hands pulled her top down off of the only shoulder it covered and slid it off her body, too, Claire whimpered in the back of her throat and tried to raise her hands to push him off, but they barely moved from her side. She was dressed in only her white underwear and matching strapless bra now, but Finn seemed determined to take his time. He gazed down at her, taking her in. 

“You’re even hotter than I thought, Claire,” he muttered, leaning over her and kissing a soft line from her belly button up to her neck. “Why do you play so hard to get, huh?”

His lips closed over hers, and Claire wanted to scream. It was so similar and so different from when Nate had kissed her; she was much more afraid this time. Finn’s hand found its way to her breast, squeezing through her bra as he bent over her again to bite her lips gently. Then he smoothed her hair away from her face, looking down at her with a disquieting tenderness.

“The first time I saw you, I wanted to kiss you. You were dressed in some old beat up t-shirt and ratty jeans, but there was no hiding how beautiful you are.” He picked up her hand and placed it on his own cheek. “And then you were smart, too, and - damn - I was intimidated.” He laughed like he was having the time of his life. “Even Maddy’s intimidated by you. She told me to slip something into your drink tonight. I don’t know quite what you did to piss her off, but she’s _pissed off_ at you.” He paused then, looking troubled. “She said I should fuck some sense into you,” he confessed. “And I’m pretty tempted,” he ran his hands over her body. “But…” He shrugged, seemingly unsure. “I’d rather have you when you can participate.” 

Goosebumps rose all over Claire’s skin, and a single tear escaped her eye and slid into her hairline, tickling her scalp. Finn noticed it and smiled sadly at her. “I won’t hurt you, Claire. Let Maddy think I did. And maybe we can have a little fun...” His lips closed over hers again, and she felt one of his fingers slip under the lacy border of her underwear above her left thigh. Finn pushed his knees between her legs and forced them apart slightly, letting his fingertip follow the line of the fabric to the joining of her thighs. “Maddy says you won’t remember any of this,” he whispered into her ear, then kissed her lips again as he rubbed his fingers over the soft cotton between her legs. Unable to strain away, Claire sobbed quietly and squeezed her eyes shut. Hot tears coursed into her hair and her face flushed pink. 

“Shhhh,” Finn said against her cheek. “It’s okay,” he whispered, which just made Claire angry. He was planning to get a little peek, steal a few kisses, then let Claire pass out, erasing the memory. When she woke up, he’d tell Claire all about Maddy’s plan and they could figure out how to get back at her. He’d be the good guy who didn’t take advantage when he could have, Finn told himself, and the two of them would share a secret plot. _A much better way into her pants_ , he thought, smiling. Then Claire’s phone started ringing in the pocket of her discarded skirt, and Finn froze, looking around in puzzlement.

Suddenly there was a terrific crashing sound, and the door to the guesthouse flew off its hinges. A figure so tall and broad that he practically filled the entire doorway stood in silhouette. 

“Get the _fuck_ off her.” Nate’s team captain voice, booming but deadly calm, and Claire had never been so happy to hear it. He stepped through the open doorway and launched himself at Finn. Another figure followed closely behind, and as Nate was pummelling Finn’s face, Aaron dropped to his knees next to Claire on the bed. After scanning her quickly for obvious injury, he reached for a decorative blanket on the nearby chair and spread it over her. 

“Are you okay? Can you move?” he was asking. Claire tried to shake her head, to reach out for him with her arms, but everything felt leaden. The only thing she could muster was another whimper in the back of her throat. 

Aaron’s expression changed from concern to anger and back in the course of a few seconds. “I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” he told her, then looked over his shoulder at Nate and Finn.

“Nate!” He yelled. “NATE!” His brother paused, holding onto Finn’s shirt with one hand while his other fist was poised to deliver another punch. “Don’t fucking kill him!” Aaron hissed. “She’s been drugged. She can’t move.” 

Nate dropped Finn unceremoniously on the floor, where he curled into a ball and groaned. Then he stalked over to Claire and pulled the blanket off of her, holding it out to his brother as he looked over her half-naked body for any signs of injury. 

“Nate!” Aaron objected, but Nate snapped back: “Lay the blanket down flat over there.” He pointed to the opposite end of the bed. Although he was skeptical, Aaron did as instructed. Effortlessly, Nate scooped Claire into his arms and carried her around the corner of the bed, laying her in the middle of the blanket and pulling its edges over her, covering her up. 

“Get her clothes,” he told Aaron, who watched for a minute as Nate scooped Claire carefully off the bed again before turning to pick up her discarded shirt and skirt as instructed. 

“I’m not done with you, you piece of shit,” Nate warned Finn, his voice rumbling against Claire’s cheek as it lay on his shoulder. 

“You’d better talk to Maddy, too, then,” said Finn, his macabre grin bloody.

“Maddy?” Aaron repeated in confusion, his eyes swiveling to Nate, whose stare looked like it could penetrate iron.

“Yeah. All this was her idea,” Finn said, dragging himself off the floor. He was in rough shape, but not gravely hurt. “Maddy said I should…” He paused. “You know. That she wouldn’t remember it anyway. But I wouldn’t have done anything, man. Not really.”

Nate’s face froze with fury, but he turned away silently and strode out of the door sideways so he didn’t strike Claire’s dangling feet against the frame. Claire was actually grateful to be in Nate’s arms, an irony that didn’t escape her even in her state of rapidly declining consciousness. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek, and his arms felt strong and comforting around her. Claire closed her eyes. The two brothers and their strange burden drew very few eyes; they’d come along the lakefront since their house was just a few minutes down the beach, and Nate carried Claire across the sand back toward the Jacobs residence. Their parents were out at the country club tonight making their “happy marriage rounds” as Aaron liked to call it. Their mother was oblivious to Cal’s indifference to her most of the time; he liked to project the image of the family man to the public, a role he filled so convincingly he had her fooled, too. She was married to a rich and successful man who was occasionally withdrawn and not particularly affectionate. Since she didn’t have much in the way of self-respect, it was enough for her. She fretted over Nate, which he loathed, but she and Aaron had a decent relationship, which didn’t help the older boy’s standing with his brother or father. Fortunately, their parents’ absence meant the house was empty when Nate went in through the back door and laid Claire on the living room couch. Her eyes were closed now and she was breathing steadily. Nate sat beside her and flicked the blanket edges back again, scouring her skin for any sign of injury.

“Christ, Nate!” Aaron exclaimed when he saw what his brother was doing. 

“I’m checking her,” Nate scowled with an expression that would brook no refusal. 

“She’s fine,” Aaron insisted, trying to reach past Nate to cover Claire again. “Though we should probably take her to the hospital for monitoring. Who knows what he gave her?”

“No,” Nate said authoritatively. Bringing authorities into this would put Finn beyond the reach of his unique form of justice. And then there was the matter of Maddy’s involvement… “She’ll sleep it off. I’ll watch her.”

Aaron crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his big little brother. “And just where do you plan to do that? Mom and Dad will probably be back in an hour, and they can’t find Claire McCann passed out and half-naked on our living room couch.” 

“I’ll take her back to her house. Her dad’s gone this weekend.”

Aaron didn’t take his eyes away, but they narrowed. “And how do you know that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nate answered dismissively. 

“I’m coming with you,” Aaron insisted. 

Nate scowled at him. “Fuck off. But give me her clothes first.”

“She texted _me_ . She’ll be freaked out if she wakes up and _you’re_ in her house.” 

_That was a fair point_ , Nate realized, much as he didn’t like it. He contemplated for a minute, then nodded stiffly. Aaron put Claire’s balled-up clothes into Nate’s outstretched hand. He fished Claire’s phone out of her pocket when it chimed: an incoming text.

 _Where are you? Are you okay?_ Rue’s number. 

_I’m fine. Finn made a move on me so I ditched. See you Monday, though._ Aaron read the text when Nate put the phone on the couch next to Claire. 

_Cocksucker._ Rue texted back, and Aaron half-smiled as he picked up her white shirt and tried to make sense of how it went on while Nate unbuttoned the skirt that Finn had just slid over Claire’s hips to remove. He fed Claire’s feet through the jean cylinder and tugged it upward, his jaw bunching as he imagined Finn doing this in reverse. Nate was quietly raging, Aaron could tell. Like most people in Nate’s inner circle, his brother had developed a hypersensitivity to his volatile moods. It was in everyone’s best interest to stay on Nate’s good side. But Aaron had never seen Nate this angry. His hands shook slightly as he tugged Claire’s skirt up over her protruding hip bones and re-buttoned it. Aaron lifted her head gently to get her shirt over it, but Nate snapped,  
“Don’t fucking touch her,” his brown eyes blazing. Aaron looked hard at his younger brother, hoping he still had some authority by virtue of age even though Nate had a good two inches on him.

“She doesn’t belong to you, Nate.” 

“She’s had enough hands on her tonight,” Nate replied through clenched teeth.

“Like yours are any exception?” Aaron challenged, but he let his brother lead Claire’s slender arm through the quarter sleeve of the white shirt and tug her other arm out the top of the open shoulder. Nate pulled the form-fitting stretchy fabric down to meet the top of her skirt. Neither of them had any idea where her shoes were, and they weren’t about to go back to Finn’s to look around. 

“My keys are in the drawer,” Nate ordered, gathering Claire up into his arms again. “But I’m driving.” 

Aaron grabbed the key ring from the console table in their front entry hall and opened the door of the house to allow Nate to carry Claire through and out onto the driveway where his truck awaited. Aaron opened the door of the crew cab, too, as Nate laid Claire out on the full length of the back seat. When Nate stepped back out of the truck and closed the cab door carefully, Aaron tossed him his keys and climbed into the passenger seat. They drove in silence with Nate at the wheel, Aaron turning around periodically to check on Claire and make sure their stops didn’t send her rolling off the seat onto the floor. When they arrived at Claire’s darkened house, Aaron tested the doors, waving from around the back where he’d opened the unlocked rear door so Nate could carry Claire inside. She always left the back door open; it was a safe suburban neighborhood and most of the house’s contents weren’t hers anyway. After a preliminary, disorienting search through the rooms with Claire held firmly in his arms, Nate lowered her into the king-size bed in the master bedroom. Aaron turned on the bedside table lamp and both men stood over her, looking down at her honeyed skin in the dim light and lost in their own thoughts. Nate finally stretched out beside her, and Aaron moved to the other side of the bed, draping Claire with the half of the coverlet on his side before laying down on the bare sheet. He caught Nate’s eye as his head hit the pillow, but he closed his eyes and ignored his brother’s interrogating stare. Claire had texted him for help, Aaron reminded himself. Not Nate. He was here for her.


	6. Morning reckonings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire awakens to unexpected revelations.

Claire woke up gradually from a dreamless sleep. She felt as if she were swimming against a powerful tide, but she was determined to reach the shore. As soon as she started stirring, Nate’s lightly closed eyes snapped open. He’d been awake for most of the night, listening to the rhythm of her breathing to make sure it stayed strong and steady and mentally playing through scenarios of confronting Maddy and breaking Finn’s bones with his bare hands. He watched her struggle toward consciousness, her brows knitting and her eyelids fluttering. 

The first thing Claire saw was a person’s profile on the pillow next to her, one that gradually came into focus as she blinked lazily several times. Strong, straight nose. Brown eyes staring up at the ceiling under long, thick brows. Chin with a slight cleft. Chiseled jaw. Nate Jacobs.  _ Nate Jacobs _ , she mentally repeated, the realization striking her aching head like a gong. She sat up abruptly and tried to scoot backwards away from him, but her hands struck another body that quickly stirred and caught her in an awkward embrace. Nate smoothly came to a sitting position, frowning angrily as Aaron steadied Claire against his own chest. Claire rotated her head back and up, struggling to see who held her.

“Aaron?” she croaked, barely able to force out any sound through vocal cords that seemed disused for centuries. 

She seemed to be in a bed with both of the Jacobs brothers, and Claire would have laughed if the whole scenario had not been so confusing and absurd. 

“What’s going on?” she whispered, still struggling to remember how to talk. She looked down at herself over Aaron’s forearms around her chest and waist.  _ I seem to be fully dressed,  _ she observed with detachment but also a flood of relief. Nate was also dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. She couldn’t really see Aaron behind her, but it seemed reasonable to assume he had also been sleeping his normal clothes.  _ Curiouser and curiouser, _ her addled brain announced, an echo of Lewis Caroll that almost made her laugh again. Thinking made her head pound, though, and Claire groaned, putting her face in her hands.

“Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck?” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” Nate asked carefully.

Claire was silent, searching her memories as she let Aaron hold her. “Not really,” she said groggily. All her mind could conjure was an image of the piece of paper Jules had put in her hand with the address of the party. “Something about a party?” She looked up at Nate again. “What are you doing in my house? Why are we in my dad’s bedroom?” Claire extricated herself from Aaron’s arms and crawled toward the edge of the bed. She swung her feet around onto the floor and heaved herself unsteadily up. She took a few steps before losing her balance, and Nate was on his feet instantly to catch her as she tilted sideways and fell against him. 

“What the fuck…” she muttered. Nate lifted her off the floor and she looped her hands around his neck, voluntarily holding on like she was the drowning person this time. He felt reassuringly solid, and he was suffused with that spicy, uniquely Nate scent that was starting to be familiar. Despite herself, she said, “Thank you,” and rested her forehead against his neck and as her head spun. 

“You got roofied,” Aaron announced, a hint of anger in his voice. “Luckily you texted me and I - we - came to get you.”

“What?” Claire muttered into Nate’s collarbone, more in disbelief than anything else. He sat in the armchair beside her dad’s bed, holding her in his lap. “How did you find me?”

“I was home when he got the message. He asked me if I knew about any parties this weekend. I knew Finn was hosting something and you mentioned a lake, so it didn’t take long to put two and two together.” Nate was talking this time, his deep voice a strange mix of sound and sensation that only increased the sense of disconnection from reality that Claire felt. 

“Who?” Claire asked.

The Jacobs brothers exchanged glances over her head. “Finn,” Aaron answered, deciding not to mention anything about Maddy just yet.

“Asshole,” Claire muttered.

“He had you half-undressed before we found you,” Aaron added, clenching his fists at his sides. Claire felt Nate’s whole body tense beneath her, and he pulled her suddenly closer with a viselike grip. His protectiveness felt a bit too much like possession, and Claire let her arms fall away from his neck. She turned away, trying to stand up again. 

“I’m okay,” she announced, though her unsteady attempts clearly indicated otherwise. Resigned, she let Nate pull her back onto his lap and cradle her against his chest. 

“I guess I owe you one,” she told them, holding out one hand to Aaron, who took it and knelt beside the chair. Nate was looking at him stonily, but Aaron ignored him. Claire caught sight of Nate’s right hand, resting against her thigh since his arm was under her knees. The knuckles were red and swollen. She touched it lightly with the fingertips of the hand Aaron wasn’t holding. 

“Jesus, Nate.” Her eyes shifted up to his face, so close all she could see was the line of his jaw and the plane of one unsmiling cheek. He didn’t seem to have taken any punches. “Hopefully you didn’t kill him.” 

“He’ll survive,” was his only reply, though he looked down at her briefly with something like softness in his eyes. 

“Thank you, truly. Both of you.” Claire said, with genuine feeling. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“Yes we did,” Aaron insisted. “I have no idea what he gave you. That could be dangerous if he’d slipped you too much.” 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t take me anywhere else. If my dad finds out about this, I’ll be finishing my senior year at another school.” She didn’t relish the idea of moving again despite the dysfunction of East Highland. She was usually really upfront with her dad, but she knew immediately she wouldn’t be filling him on this particular misadventure. It was far too humiliating, and she worried he’d lose faith in her ability to handle herself. “Who else knows about this?” She cringed at the idea of the whole senior class talking about her.

“Just Finn, though it’ll be tough to explain his face,” Aaron mused.

“And Maddy,” Nate added unexpectedly, his voice harsh and grating.

“Maddy?” Claire swallowed hard. She noticed Aaron give Nate a surprised look. “What does Maddy have to do with anything?”

When Nate didn’t answer, Aaron said cautiously, “Finn said she told him to drug you.”

“Why the hell did he agree?” Claire said indignantly. “And what the hell did I ever do to her?” She sputtered. “This fucking place is fucking insane.”

Aaron was staring at Nate, and the silence grew. Claire looked back and forth between the brothers. “This has something to do with you, doesn’t it?” she demanded of Nate. Once again she struggled to extricate herself from his embrace. “I told you to stay away from me. I don’t need your jealous girlfriend convincing people to…” she trailed off, wrestling with Nate’s arms until she managed to slide off his lap onto the floor. She couldn’t really bring herself to think about how things could have ended if Nate and Aaron hadn’t intervened.  _ Damn, Maddy was a cold-blooded bitch. _ Claire had underestimated her. And Finn.  _ What the hell was that?  _ She knew he was lusting after her, but this was a whole new level of creep. She honestly didn’t think he had it in him to do something like that. Hot tears burned in her eyes, and she brushed them away angrily. And as it turned out, the least noble person she knew in East Highland hand ridden in to save her like some goddamned golden knight. Claire laughed as twin tears snaked down her cheeks. She felt insane, laughing and crying at the same time while her whole world went topsy-turvy. Her hands were icy cold as she covered her face, and her whole body started shaking as if she were in a cart on cobblestone streets. Aaron and Nate looked at her and then at each other in something like horror, then Nate stood and pulled the comforter off the bed, draping it around Claire’s shoulders as Aaron sat down beside her and wrapped it around her tightly, pulling her against him to quiet the tremors and murmuring soft words into her hair. Gradually, her body felt more in her control, and both Jacobs brothers helped her to her feet, Nate’s long-fingered hands firmly around her waist from behind as Aaron held her hands. 

“I just want to clean up,” she told them, making her shaky way toward the bathroom door. They watched her, more out of caution than curiosity, but she made it on her own power and closed the door. Aaron turned around and re-made the bed, replacing the pillows so everything looked undisturbed. 

Claire’s dad’s bathroom had a walk-in, glass-panelled shower, so Claire turned on the hot tap, stripped carefully, and leaned against the tiled wall as the steaming water sluiced over her body, warming her frozen extremities and pinking skin that had looked deathly white when she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She pieced together her fragmented memories as she soaped her body and shampooed her long hair, but she couldn’t remember anything beyond seeing Finn in the kitchen of the house where the party had been held. Claire wasn’t entirely sure she regretted this. Turning off the tap when she was clean and her hair ran clear (her dad’s shampoo was one of those cleaner/conditioner combos that usually made her hair a little course, but she didn’t particularly care today), Claire wrapped herself in a thick towel and padded out of the master bedroom on much steadier feet, almost running into Aaron Jacobs in the hall as she headed for her own room and one of her cozy terry cloth robes.

“Fucking hell!” she cursed, banging the back of her head up against the wall in an effort to avoid faceplanting on his chest. 

“Sorry!” he said gently, steadying her with one hand around her upper arm the way Nate had a habit of doing. 

“Jesus, I thought you two left,” she gasped as Nate came down the hall, filling the space so completely she started to feel claustrophobic again.

“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Aaron comforted, releasing his grip on her arm only when he saw Nate’s expression upon noticing the contact. 

She almost snapped back at him, but she took a deep breath and composed herself. “Thanks. I’ll be alright. Let me get dressed and I’ll say a proper farewell.” Claire went into her room and closed the door firmly, leaning back against it for a moment.  _ Weirdest 24 hours of my life.  _ Hurriedly, but mercifully much steadier, she slipped into one of her mother’s old dressing gowns, something she rarely wore but which felt comforting and appropriately modest with its long sleeves and floor-length ruffled hem. When she emerged and made her way into the kitchen, Aaron was holding out a hot cup of coffee, which she gratefully took, wrapping both her hands around its warmth. Claire stood in her kitchen sipping coffee in companionable silence with the Jacobs brothers, somewhat in disbelief that any of this was reality. Claire and Aaron put their cups into the sink at the same time, and she laid a hand on his forearm gently. 

“Thanks for coming,” she told him, with complete sincerity.

He nodded, and Nate came up behind her, resting one hand on her hip as he leaned between her and Aaron to put his cup in the sink, too. When he stepped back, Nate stood beside her and looped his arm around her more tightly till she turned toward him and rested a palm on his chest. 

“Thank you, Nate,” she said, somewhat hesitantly. “And please, just keep your distance and let this go.”

He gave her no assurances, but put his palm down over her hand so she could feel his heart thundering under her fingers. Uncertain what to make of this response, Claire slid out of his embrace and made her way toward the front door. She turned the deadbolt and held it open for her unlikely guests.

Aaron moved first. “Text me if you need anything.” He smiled warmly, his eyes soft and full of concern.

She nodded. Nate followed his brother, saying nothing as he stepped across the threshold, but holding her eyes wordlessly with his deep brown ones for long enough to make her heart skip a beat before he climbed into his truck and drove away with Aaron. 


	7. Discoveries and confrontations

By the next morning, Claire was feeling steady enough for a run. She needed to think through these new developments, and running was her preferred processing method. Aaron had texted her a few times throughout the day Saturday, just checking in. She’d thought it was sweet, but she worried that Nate knew about it. Then she worried that she was worried about what Nate thought. It frightened her that Nate had infiltrated her mind in this regard; she knew it wasn’t healthy. His volatile personality was like a black hole, gradually sucking those around him into its inexplicable gravity so they rotated captive around him until they were annihilated. Claire was not about to let that be her fate. _I mean, just look at Maddy_ , she thought. Her obsession with Nate Jacobs had turned her into a threat; she’d actually convinced Finn to drug and assault another girl. _That’s fucked up_. 

Claire shrugged her sports bra on and slipped into her running pants, which were becoming dangerously loose. She couldn’t go on losing weight; she was trim as it was, and she’d end up looking skeletal before long. Claire was not into the waif look; she preferred lithe and healthy. She resolved to cook herself a full breakfast after she came back since she couldn’t run comfortably on a full stomach. 

The biggest dilemma was how to approach school on Monday. Confronting Maddy between classes was out of the question; that could become dramatic very fast. But Claire couldn’t let herself be an easy target by saying nothing. And what to do about Finn? She hardly felt comfortable being his lab partner after what had happened, though she still couldn’t remember anything about it. Aaron had said she’d been half-naked. What had he done before Nate and his brother intervened? What had he been planning to do? Claire shuddered, shoving her feet into the running shoes she’d gotten from the track team. She went out the back door, closing it behind her but not locking it, per her new routine. 

Claire made her usual circuit around the serpentine streets leading to East Highland High, avoiding the park where she’d fallen asleep and woken up to Nate Jacobs for the first time. She was trying to puzzle through what to do about Maddy and Finn, but her mind kept wandering back to Nate: the spicy scent of him, the look he’d given her as he left, the echo of his arms supporting her. Even Aaron, who was undeniably handsome and definitely safer than Nate, didn’t stick so stubbornly in her mind. As if on cue, her phone buzzed in the pocket of her running pants, and she slowed down to check it. AJ.

_Feeling better?_

_Yeah thx. On a run._

She was slipping the phone back into her pocket when it chimed again. 

_Be careful._

Although she knew he meant well, the warning felt condescending. She wanted to text back _I can handle myself_ , but she resisted the urge, especially so soon after finding herself in a situation where that didn’t seem to be the case at all. Claire sighed and started jogging again, still at a loss about what to do with Maddy or Finn. 

She still didn’t have a definitive answer by the time she circled back to her house, and as she was approaching the corner before her street, she felt another text arrive. She stopped to check.

_Hi, honey! One more night at the jobsite. I’ll be back tomorrow after school. Everything good?_

_All good_ , she replied, then turned the corner, feeling only a twinge of guilt. Not something she could bring up with her dad over text anyway, she reassured herself. Claire didn’t notice there was an unfamiliar car in her driveway until she was jogging past it on the passenger side. She stopped and peered through the windows, but it was empty. It was a newer BMW sedan, but she still didn’t recognize it. Claire stood in the driveway and looked around, unsure. Cautiously, she made her way to the back of the house, where a tall boy in a blue polo shirt was standing with his back to her, peering through the window in the door. He heard her feet on the path behind him and turned around.

Although his face was battered, she recognized him right away. Finn Hawley was blocking Claire’s path inside, and she took a hurried step back. 

He held up his hands and blurted out, “It’s okay, Claire! I just want to talk.”

She contemplated running, but held her ground and narrowed her eyes.

“We don’t have anything to talk about, Finn. You need to stay the hell away from me for the rest of the year. End of story.” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly. “What I did was really shitty. But I promise I wasn’t going to hurt you, Claire. I was drunk and I got a little frisky, but I honestly only wanted Maddy to think I’d followed through. I was planning to tell you about her plan when you woke up. I was hoping maybe you’d trust me more after. That we could be... ” he hesitated. “Friends.”

Unsatisfied, Claire still asked her most pressing questions. “What crazy fuckery of logic made you agree to this plan in the first place? And what does she have against me, anyway?”

Finn shook his head. “It was stupid. I was stupid. And Maddy? She thinks you and Nate are doing stuff behind her back, and you’re lying to her about it.” _Suspicion confirmed_. Finn looked at her askance, then gestured to his face. “But she should know it’s dangerous to stand between Nate and what he wants.” 

Claire screwed up her face in disgust. “Well, I don’t give a shit what Nate wants. He doesn’t get to pretend like he owns me. And you can tell Maddy she’s welcome to him. The whole lot of you are seriously fucked and I am just trying to graduate and get the hell out of here.” 

Finn looked stricken, but there was a hint of hope in his eyes.

“So you and Nate aren’t….?”

“Christ Almighty, Finn, is that all you care about? No. There is no me and Nate. There never will be. And there’s no me and you, either.” She added, pushing past him in a burst of confidence. 

He stood in the center of the path, looking conflicted. “Yeah, you should keep it that way. Nate’s… dangerous.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I realize that. Apparently so is Maddy. And so are you.”

Finn adjusted his weight on his feet, then repeated, “I’m really sorry, Claire. I swear I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

Claire sighed, resting her forehead on the closed door. “You’re an idiot, Finn, but I believe you.” She spun and faced him, fire in her green eyes. “And if you come near me again, what Nate did to you will seem like a walk in the park.” It was a bit of an empty threat; Claire had never been in a fight and probably didn’t stand a chance against Finn’s linebacker bulk. But she said it with all the conviction she could muster. “Now get the hell out of here.”

He obliged, but Claire’s hands were shaking when she stepped inside and locked the door behind her. The idea of staying home alone for another night was a little too much for her to bear. She seemed to remember a small motel on the outskirts of the town, and she resolved to rent a room there for the night -- far away from the house where too many people seemed to know she lived. 

It was late, but Claire was laying wide-eyed on the bed of the cheap motel, trying not to listen to the unmistakable sounds of some shady tryst in the room next to her. A higher voice kept repeating a name, and despite her misgivings, Claire pressed her ear against the wall and heard clearly, “Daddy.” 

“Ugh, gross,” she whispered under her breath, regretting as she had for the last 30 minutes or so her escape to the motel. She didn’t feel any safer here, as it quickly became clear the later it got that this motel was not exclusively an innocent stopover for road-weary truck drivers. She stuffed her earbuds in her ears and cranked up her music, hoping to drown out the sounds from next door. The unfortunate consequence of this was that she had no hope of sleeping, and she listened to her angriest running mix until the batteries died on her headphones. She removed them to blessed silence and took a deep breath of relief. Claire heard the door of the room next door open and close, and her morbid curiosity propelled her to the window. The lights were off in her room and had been for some hours, so her snooping was entirely anonymous. A figure with long red hair and an iridescent miniskirt flounced down the stairs, adjusting a faux fur cropped jacket that served as a top. She was beautiful, but Claire could tell it was not a typical beauty. The hair was obviously a wig, and Claire detected the hint of an Adam’s apple in the shadows cast by the parking lot lights. 

_To each his own_ , she shrugged, and was about to turn around and try to get some sleep in the scant hours she had before she had to be up for school when the door of the room next door opened again and a second person emerged. Something about that profile looked familiar, so Claire darted into the shadows and watched until she saw his face clearly in the light: Cal Jacobs. He was looking around much more alertly than his former companion, obviously on the lookout for any spying eyes. Claire was in partial disbelief until she saw him climb into the same sedan he had taken her home in and drive out of the parking lot in the direction of East Highland. 

“So that’s what you’re doing out at 2 am, Cal Jacobs,” Claire whispered, sitting down heavily on the edge of the hotel bed which suddenly felt more seedy than cheap. She wondered if Nate knew. _Probably,_ she concluded, reflecting on the veiled anger and menace that seemed to be his default setting. _And it’s just as likely Aaron doesn’t_ , she realized, thinking of the older boy’s almost naive kindness by comparison. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” she breathed out softly. _How did Nate find out?_ She couldn’t help but wonder, and she heard Aaron’s words from the carnival echo in her mind’s ear: _He used to be a sweet kid. Around, 11, 12, something changed_ . _Every once in a while I try to figure out what it was - whether it was me - but I can’t remember doing anything to him. Maybe it was something I didn’t do._

One terrible possibility occurred to Claire, but she hesitated to jump to conclusions. _Cal Jacobs may be closeted gay, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d hurt his own kid. Those two things didn’t go hand-in-hand at all._ Claire didn’t understand, but one thing she now knew: Cal Jacobs had a lot to hide, and she was one step closer to unraveling the mystery of Nate Jacobs.

Unsettled, she left her room, too, and drove back to her own house in East Highland, where her bed suddenly felt comparatively safe again. 

Claire accidentally slept through the first period, so she arrived at school just in time for chemistry with no discernable plan for how to deal with Finn. To her great relief, he wasn’t there at their lab table when she arrived. Ten minutes into the period when he still hadn’t shown, Claire’s relief turned into suspicion. She turned to look at Nate, who seemed to have fresh bruises and abrasions on his knuckles. As soon as the bell rang, she cornered him in the hall. 

“Where’s Finn, Nate?” she asked pointedly, not willing to beat around the bush.

“He had a little accident,” Nate replied evasively. 

“You're going to get yourself arrested,” she hissed. 

He looked at her impassively. “Give me a little credit.”

Claire poked a finger into his shoulder. “What’s the matter with you, huh? You’re acting like a fucking sociopath.” 

He shrugged slightly, betraying nothing. 

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” Claire demanded. 

“He is,” Nate confirmed with a slight incline of his head. 

“Well I can’t say he didn’t deserve it,” Claire sighed. “But consider the book closed, you hear me? I don’t need you to fight my battles.” She turned to stomp away and saw Maddy staring at the two of them with a look of black hatred.

 _Goddamnit_ , Claire cursed mentally, hurrying away from Nate. Even though their exchange had hardly been a friendly one, Claire knew any time she was in Nate’s presence, Maddy took it personally. She was making her way down the hall when she felt a hand on her shoulder, dragging her back around. Maddy was staring at her with slitted eyes.

“What’s your problem?” Claire spat at her.

“You. You’re my fucking problem, you cunt,” Maddy retorted. Claire’s blood boiled, and for the first time in her life, she balled her hand into a fist and clocked Maddy directly in the face. All hell broke loose. Maddy dropped like a rock, but then she sprang to her feet, holding one hand on her cheek as she shrieked like a banshee and charged at Claire. Claire ducked, spinning around so she could book it out of there, but a circle of people had formed around the two girls in the hallway and she couldn’t find an exit. Maddy grabbed hold of her hair and dragged her backward, her acrylic nails clawing at Claire’s face. Claire stepped back and landed an elbow right in the shorter girl’s chest just as two teachers grabbed Maddy by the arms and held her back. Claire broke away and found herself thrown directly over Nate Jacobs’ shoulder as he bent down and lifted her up by the waist. He unfolded to his full height and carried her away from the fray; Claire raised her head once to see Maddy screaming and thrashing in the arms of her track coach and the football coach, who looked equally appalled. 

Nate carried Claire outside and set her down gently, bracing her against a brick wall. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his liquid brown eyes searching hers. Sometimes Nate could look every bit a grown and terrible man, and sometimes she saw the hint of the boy he’d been under mussed hair and the knitting of his winged brows. His fingers brushed livid red scratches on the side of her face. 

“I’m fine!” Claire shouted, pushing Nate aside and stomping away. “No thanks to you!” She spun around and pointed at him. “This never would have happened if you had just listened to me and kept your fucking distance!” 

“I have!” he shouted back. 

“But you keep _staring_ at me like I’ll stop breathing if you look away!” 

“Fuck, Claire! I’m doing the best I can!” Nate bellowed. 

This admission surprised her, and Claire was temporarily speechless. Then something snapped in both of them and they crashed together with a desperate passion, their lips seeking one another like a drowning person seeks air. They awkwardly broke apart only when a distinct throat-clearing cut through the silence. It was Mrs. Felding, the school principal. 

“Ms. McCann,” she said sternly. “I need to see you in my office.” She looked back and forth between them for a moment. “Now. Get to class, Mr. Jacobs.”

Claire backed away hastily, ashamed that her moment of weakness had been witnessed by their principal of all people. She dutifully followed the woman and sat compliantly in her office as she called Claire’s father and explained that his daughter was suspended for a week for fighting. Claire accepted the punishment without argument; it would give her a chance to think about how to handle this Maddy situation, and it would give her some distance from Nate. 

When her dad arrived - straight from the jobsite - to pick her up, he raised both bushy eyebrows, more curious than mad. 

“There’s got to be a good explanation for this,” he began as Claire slid into the passenger seat beside him. Claire sighed deeply, determined to tell him as much of the truth as she could. 

“I wish there were a better one. There’s this girl named Maddy; she’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“Jealous?” her dad inquired, not wholly unfamiliar with the drama his showstopping beauty of a daughter caused. 

“Something like that. She’s Nate’s girlfriend.”

“Nate? The tall kid from the chili booth?”

“Yep. She seems to be under the impression that he likes me.”

Her dad drove toward home, snorting with amusement.

“She’d have to be blind not to see that.” 

“Dad!” Claire retorted defensively.

“Oh, c’mon, darlin’.” He winked at her. “I saw that a mile away. Have you been givin’ her cause to be jealous?” He expected her honesty because he always got it.

“No!” Claire said indignantly. When her dad didn’t respond, she sighed. “But Nate has. He keeps staring at me. And since he and Maddy got in a fight, he hasn’t seemed interested in reconciling. She thinks it’s my fault.” 

“So she came at you, trying to even the score?”

Claire sighed again. “Sort of. She called me the c-word. But I punched her.”

Claire’s dad widened his eyes, which were still on the road. “Not like you to strike first, Rey-Rey.”

“It’s more complicated than that. She’d been… trying to get people to be mean to me.” Claire squirmed. That was close enough to the truth. “I lost my temper.” 

“Well, it sounds like you could both use some time to cool off.”

“That’s the truth,” Claire agreed. 

Her dad reached out and put his hand palm-up on the center console. Claire twined her fingers through his. 

“You’re a good kid,” he said, and Claire’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears. 

“Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me, too,” he agreed. “Star Wars marathon tonight?”

Claire nodded, turning her face toward the window so he wouldn’t see her wipe away her tears. “Nothing I’d rather do.” 


	8. The best intentions are no match for the strongest urges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Merry Christmas, I guess. These two characters got the better of me and just couldn't wait any longer. Warning: Smut. A whoooooooooole lotta smut. Mature audiences... enjoy! I'll work out the aftermath, well... after.

Her dad was home for three full days -- three days of watching Star Wars, making pancakes, playing Monopoly, and generally pretending like Claire was a kid again. She turned off her phone and lived the most uncomplicated existence she possibly could. Nate only crept into her dreams, but as soon as he appeared in her waking mind, she pushed him out unceremoniously and immediately. 

But before long Claire was waving to her dad from the doorway as he backed out of the driveway on his way to the hotel closest to his jobsite for the evening.

“Stay out of trouble!” he called out, half-teasingly.

Jokingly, she put up her fists, as if prepping for a fight. He blew her a kiss and she pretended to catch it and slap it onto her cheek. Claire smiled and watched his car until he turned a corner and she couldn’t see it anymore. He’d be gone for about five days -- the rest of the school week and into the weekend. Sighing deeply, she let her eyes range over the neighborhood, resigned to the fact that re-entering real life was inevitable come Monday and the end of her suspension. Something white caught her eye down the block, and Claire frowned, squinting. Nate’s white truck. So he was watching her house. Claire hurried back inside and closed the door, her heart hammering -- but not out of fear. Despite his size and temper and the way he had blatantly taken liberties with her since pretty much the moment they met, Claire had never felt threatened by Nate. In every other context, he was actually scary as fuck, so Claire couldn’t quite make sense of it. And the fact that he was stalking her house should freak her out, but Claire felt strangely comforted. 

She was confused, and she only had a few days to figure it out before she had to face Nate and Maddy again at school. Claire picked up her phone and turned it on, but put it face-down on the countertop in the kitchen as she stared blankly into the refrigerator looking for anything she might be tempted to eat. Behind her, the phone beeped out a chorus of simultaneous text messages that had clearly been backlogged for a few days.

The first few were from Rue and Jules. Amusement. Amazement. A little concern after a while. Claire texted back: _I’m fine; been hanging out with my dad for a few days._

Several from Aaron, scattered over a few days: _Heard about the fight. Can’t say Maddy didn’t deserve it. She showed up at our house and my dad kicked her out before Nate got home. Probably a good thing or else he’d be in jail. You okay? Well let me know if you need anything._

Claire didn’t reply. Aaron being nice and supportive just complicated things. She didn’t want to encourage him, but she was also grateful to have someone who seemed like a real friend. Aaron didn’t demand anything from her, but she knew he’d come if she called. Claire sighed and picked up the phone to text back.

_Hey you. Thanks for everything. Spent some quality time with my dad. Doing okay._

Nothing from Nate. He didn’t have her number. Claire was sure he could get it if he wanted. He chose to creepily stalk her house instead. Her phone chimed.

Aaron had replied: _Glad to hear it._

Claire smiled slightly and left the phone on the counter, resolved to go for a run after a few down days of eating way too many pancakes and being deliciously lazy. Claire stripped off her pajamas and glanced at herself in the mirror of her room, hoping to see a little chub accumulating, but she was still as lithe and toned as before. Her phone rang from the kitchen, which was rare - most of her friends knew she preferred texting, and she had set it up so unknown calls went straight to voicemail. Grumbling, Claire threw on a sheer robe sitting at the top of a clothes pile waiting to be hung. She was not about to walk through her house stark naked knowing Nate Jacobs could be watching. 

When Claire walked into the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks. An exceptionally tall, broad-shouldered figure stood with his back to her. Despite herself, Claire gasped, and Nate turned around, his eyes almost black in the shadows made by a bright streak of sunlight that fell at his feet on the tile between them.

“Nate, what the hell are you doing in my house?” she demanded, not even thinking to cover herself until she saw those dark eyes sweeping across her body. The robe didn’t hide much of anything in the late afternoon sunlight streaming into the kitchen. Nate didn’t respond except by closing the space between them in a few strides and pulling her against him, one hand behind her head under her hair and the other encircling her waist. Claire stared up at him, simultaneously appalled by his sheer nerve and filled with a kind of thrill that defied all words or logic. He bent his head down and kissed her lightly, with no explanation. Then his fingers tightened and his kiss grew more insistent. 

Claire’s mind was racing, full of a thousand questions and a thousand thousand worries, but Nate’s seeming certainty shouted them all down in silence. It was so surreal, for him to appear in her house without explanation or apology, that she was disarmed. For his part, Nate was full of consuming need. He’d been restless since the party, and beating the shit out of Finn for the second time had not doused the fire. In the three days of Claire’s self-imposed isolation, Nate had formulated twenty different plans to vent his frustration on Maddy, but the rational part of his mind knew he had to be much more careful than usual, so he hadn’t put any of them into action. The growing tension of needing to do _something_ was close to driving him mad. As soon as Claire’s dad’s car was out of sight, he’d been drawn to her with an inexplicable magnetism. He’d turned off his truck and left it parked down the block, then walked to her front door, which she’d left open, and let himself in. He didn’t have a plan, but he needed _something,_ badly. He knew that with anyone but Claire, it would be a terrible something, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want something terrible.

Claire could sense the restrained emotion in Nate; he practically trembled with it, and something about that unintentional vulnerability softened her defenses. It was just enough - the sense of disconnected reality, the powerful need coming off of him in waves, his huge and warm and insistent body pressed against hers, the strangeness of the last few days - to make Claire choose him, just for this suspended moment in time, without thought of consequence.

Claire slid her arms around Nate, too, finding her palms on his hot skin under his white t-shirt, skating over smooth ridges of muscle. For the first time, she kissed him back without hesitation, and it excited him beyond reason. Nate lifted Claire off her feet and carried her back down the hall in the direction of her bedroom. He knew her house well after having spent the night of the party there and explored a bit the morning after while he and Aaron were waiting for Claire to shower. 

He lowered her onto the bed, a little ungently in his urgency, his lips still on hers. His long-fingered hands untied the sash of her robe and he broke their kiss to lean back and look at her as he coaxed the fabric away from her skin. He’d seen the shape of her body many times - in the lake, in the locker room, trapped under Finn - the memory made his jaw bunch with rage. But never like this. She wore nothing under the robe, and Nate drank her in with his eyes. The pink sheer curtains in her room - which Claire hated but which had come with the house - bathed everything in a rosy glow as the sun set behind them. Claire was cream and gold perfection, her hair spread out under her head like a halo in contrast to the navy blue velvet coverlet, her skin taut and flawless, soft and silky under his fingers. She looked up at him unflinchingly, green eyes searching his brown ones. 

Nate reached behind his head and pulled off his shirt in one fluid movement, tossing it aside as he pressed his bare chest down onto hers, the shock of their skin touching palpable to both of them. Nate kissed her again, his hands roaming her body as he slid one leg between her thighs, shifting his weight so he could push her legs apart with the width of his hips. Claire knew what was going to happen; it had been inevitable the moment she’d responded to his kiss. It was not something she could think about right now; she felt carried along on some impossibly strong current, all volition gone. It felt like a dream, one of her now-frequent dreams of Nate doing what he was about to do now: natural in its familiarity. His spicy, piney scent suffused her, and Claire let her head fall back as the rough hint of stubble on his chin and jawline rasped wonderfully against her neck. Both of them knew that foreplay was unnecessary; they were succumbing to a tide that had been building for months, and there was no holding it back now. Their first joining would be hard and fast because in the back of her mind Claire already knew many more of a different character would follow. Nate seemed to know it, too, because he lifted himself above her just long enough to unbutton his pants and slide them off his hips, and it was clear that he was as ready as she was. Claire’s eyes widened and she sat up, bracing herself on one arm as the other reached out to run her palm down his long, finely muscled torso. Her fingers hesitated, uncertain, before coming back to rest on her lips. Nate’s cock matched his stature and breadth, and Claire’s whole body zinged with an anticipation that was part excitement and part fear. On his knees on the bed, backlit by the light streaming through the window, he looked like some kind of terrible god -- merciless and powerful and wildly beautiful. Claire felt a little crazy in that moment, as Nate reached out and pushed the robe off her shoulders, trapping her arms beside her as he pushed her back down onto the bed and slid his hips between her thighs. One of his fingers slipped into her folds, testing, and came away slick. Nate smiled, that one-sided grin of his that had the potential to be both sweet and terrifying, and he slid his hand around to her ass and under her thigh, easing her left leg up and out as she felt the thick hardness of him testing her entrance. 

Claire grew in a sharp breath and bit her lip; it had been almost a year since she’d done anything with a boyfriend, and thus far all she’d allowed was a little fingering. Claire didn't have any hangups about sex, and she certainly wasn’t trying to preserve her purity or any such nonsense. She had explored her own body for years and she knew what felt good, but the timing and the person had never seemed to fit. But now, she _knew_ that she would let Nate take her, with the same surety she’d known all the times before had not been right. She was only a little scared, because he was huge in every sense of the word, and she could tell it would hurt. Claire didn’t want Nate to know that she was a virgin; she sensed it would surprise him, make him hesitate when she preferred his certainty. So she opened her legs a little wider and reached up to draw his face to hers, pulling by the back of his neck. He growled softly, and when Claire rotated her hips toward his, he kissed her fiercely and thrust into her hard, surging through her barrier and sheathing his full length in one stroke. 

Claire broke their kiss and turned her face aside, crying out despite herself. Nate stopped moving, his cock buried deep inside her as her inner walls strained to accommodate him. She was impossibly tight, and even though he’d entered her quickly, he’d felt an unfamiliar resistance that yielded only to his relentless thrust. Maddy had told him she was a virgin when they’d first coupled, but she had felt nothing like Claire. Nate’s eyes widened as she took a few gasping breaths and closed her own eyes tightly, moving her hips in what was surely an effort to dislodge him, but felt to Nate like the most delicious invitation to thrust again. 

“Claire,” Nate whispered, the first thing he’d said all day. Claire turned toward him again and opened her eyes, long lashes sticky with unshed tears. His fingers brushed her face and he leaned back, still inside her, enough so he could see their joining. Nate moved his hips slightly and saw the hint of red on his shaft. 

“Claire,” he breathed again, his hands on her hips and asking in his expression. 

“Don’t stop,” she said, reaching for him, drawing his lips down over hers and mustering the courage to shift so that his cock was fully sheathed again even though it felt like he’d shoved a tree trunk inside her. Nate shuddered bodily and his chest rumbled. His jaw was bunching with the effort of restraint.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Then don’t be,” she whispered into his ear, and she felt his hesitation for just a moment before he gathered her up in his arms and drew back enough to thrust hard again, rocking her with an agonizing but intoxicating fullness. His lips claimed hers as his body pounded into her, wave after wave building toward a familiar breaking point made more exquisite by the painful pleasure of his impossible girth. He pushed against her upraised thigh and the new angle sent him deeper; instinctively, Claire raised the other leg and tensed, but they were both too far gone to feel much besides their rising climax. Nate thrust one last time, and they both cried out simultaneously, trembling nervelessly in their release. Claire’s shaking aftermath sent him into a frenzy of short, deep thrusts that emptied him entirely and left him weak and gasping above her, his last strength channeled into holding his arms around her with his weight on his forearms so he didn’t crush her utterly. 

“Fuck, Claire,” Nate growled into her ear, and she rested her cheek against his, feeling like every sensation was radiating out of her center with the beat of her pulse. She heard his heart hammering in concert with hers. They lay together unmoving for uncountable minutes as they came back to themselves more fully. 

“Are you hurt?” Nate asked gruffly, looking down at her with concern.

Claire smiled genuinely, luxuriating in his warmth and scent and the feeling of being joined to him now that his hardness was not so unyielding. “No, I’m not hurt,” she reassured him with more certainty than she felt. His eyes searched hers, but then he nodded slightly, releasing her and pulling out slowly before rolling onto his side and collapsing onto the bed. 

The spell was only partly broken, Claire reflected as one corner of her mind assessed the situation clinically with something like amusement. _Wow, Claire. The stay-away-from-Nate plan failed pretty spectacularly._ She turned her head and looked over at his chiseled profile and the tousled mop of his hair and felt something like joy. Hurriedly, she gazed up at the ceiling again, because the feeling was quickly followed by shock. Nate was still a dangerous wild card, and Claire had no idea how he would react to this. Most likely, he’d lose interest in her. Claire smiled, a little sadly. _And maybe that’s exactly what should happen._ That hadn’t been her plan - _you didn’t have a plan_ , she reminded herself - but it seemed now like the most reasonable outcome. Whatever weird obsession had been fueling Nate’s interest, what they had just done was likely its cure. _Was that what you wanted?_ she wondered, sneaking a sideways glance at him again. He was still breathing hard and his eyes were closed. 

If that was the outcome, Claire couldn’t say she regretted how it came about. She had certainly gotten some fun out of the arrangement, and her life could go back to its comfortable simplicity. She laughed lightly under her breath as she rolled over onto her side and prepared to stand up. Nate certainly didn’t seem the type who wanted to cuddle after. She did a quick calculation; Claire tracked her monthly cycles and knew enough about biology to reckon that their tryst wouldn’t be very risky, but she didn’t want to lay there too long. She stood somewhat shakily and winced a little, aching in places she’d never really felt before. 

“You should have told me,” Nate said quietly from the bed.

“Told you what?” Claire said in false naivete, straightening up and walking confidently toward the ensuite bathroom by willpower alone. 

He didn’t answer, since the answer was obvious. “I would have been…” he searched for the words.

Claire paused with her hand on the doorframe and looked at him over her shoulder, her long hair a relatively modest cover. “You didn’t need to be anything except what you were.” Without waiting for his answer, she went into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the shower. 

Claire stood under the steaming water, her thoughts already elsewhere, fully expecting Nate Jacobs to sneak out her back door the minute she was gone and vacate her life. To her great surprise, she heard the door click open, and when she squinted through the foggy glass of the walk-in shower, Nate was standing naked in her bathroom, watching her. 

“I’m almost done,” she called. “You can be next if you want.”

She turned to let the water sluice over her head, rinsing out the shampoo, and when she opened her eyes again, Nate was standing in front of her in the shower stall, a soft smile on his face. Claire jumped, steadying herself against the wall.

“Christ, Nate! You scared the shit out of me!” 

He stepped closer, once again pulling Claire against his chest so the hot water coursed over both of them. “Sorry,” he said perfunctorily. Claire looked up at Nate with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s Thursday. Were you even in school?”

Nate shrugged. Apparently truancy was not a big deal to him. She hadn’t seen him miss school a lot, though, so he didn’t make a habit of it. He was almost too tall for the shower to accommodate without having to bend over, so he ducked his head slightly to wet his hair and rub his hands over his face. He reached for a bottle of Dove body wash and squeezed a generous portion into his hands, then reached for Claire and started soaping up her body, starting with her shoulders, then running his hands over her arms and back up. He spun her around so her back was against his chest, and his hands closed over her breasts. Claire felt a distinct hardness pressing into her spine, and she almost laughed. He was ready _again_? This didn’t bode well for him losing interest quickly, but he might need a few rounds before he was well and truly bored. Claire shrugged too, leaning her head back against his chest and closing her eyes as his soapy hands roamed over her body. She couldn’t say she was entirely bored yet, either. And as long as she steered herself away from the more dangerous emotions, she could enjoy this a little, too. Nate was kneading her shoulders with his huge, powerful hands, and Claire almost melted into a puddle and slipped down the drain. 

“Oh my god,” Claire exhaled, resting her forehead on the tile of the shower as he ran deft fingers up and down beside her spine. His hands came to rest on her waist, then his thighs were pushing hers a little wider apart and she felt him bend his knees as he held her firmly and slid his thick cock inside her again. Claire was undoubtedly wet enough, but still sore from their first encounter, so she gasped and grabbed one of Nate’s wrists as he held her waist while her other hand clawed at the tile she was leaning against. 

“Oh my god,” she said again, quite differently this time, as Nate stepped away from the tile and pushed her back down slightly so she was more horizontal as he drew out slowly, then rotated his hips, sinking back into her so deep that it ached. Claire tried to stand upright, her whole body tense, and Nate withdrew, spinning her around to look into her eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, genuinely troubled.

“A little,” Claire confessed, and Nate’s brows furrowed as he bent down to kiss her gently on the forehead, taking her wrists and looping them around his neck. 

“Hold on,” he told her, then lifted her off the ground. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Claire did as instructed, if only because she was afraid they’d both fall down if she moved too much, but his grip was solid and his balance steady. Nate was _so_ tall, Claire marveled. When she stood beside him, his waist was almost even with her breasts, and in his arms she felt tiny and featherlight, two things she rarely experienced. Claire was slender, but at 5’7” she wasn’t exactly short. She was distracted by the marvelous, slightly soapy ridges of the well-muscled shoulders and back beneath her fingers while Nate guided his erect shaft under her and pressed her down onto it, claiming her again. She shuddered around him, starting to enjoy the pleasure-pain of feeling him enter her. From this angle, Claire had a little more control over the depth of his penetration, but she almost missed the undeniable power of him when he had full discretion. She kissed him hard and he bit her lip gently when she rotated her hips to allow him to bury himself in her fully. 

“Be careful, Claire,” he warned her, holding her against him with his hands pressing down on her hip bones while he ground his hips against the place where the back of her thighs met her ass, moving subtly inside her. “You’ll make me lose control.” 

“Exactly,” she teased, moving her hips along with him. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them they were smoldering. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he warned, then backed her up against the tile wall, pulling her left leg up so her calf rested on his shoulder and driving a few hard thrusts into her until their balance was re-established. Fortunately, Claire was flexible enough from her pre-run stretches and years of dance that she could allow her right leg to fall down against the tile, her toes just touching the ground as she basically did a midair split against Nate’s torso. His right hand snaked down to the joining of their bodies, and he started to make tiny circles on her clit with his thumb, his palm and other fingers flat against her hip. Claire almost saw stars, and she grabbed the nape of his neck hard, crying out in ecstasy. Nate watched her fair skin flush bright pink and expertly regulated his thrusts until Claire writhed around him in shuddering climax, cursing a very uncharacteristic blue streak as she came. Her inner muscles clenched around Nate hard, then he pressed both his hands palm down against the tile under Claire’s arms and gave himself over to a punishing rhythm of thrusts that carried him over the same edge shortly after Claire. After he exploded inside her for a second time and stood panting within her for a few more moments, Nate let Claire’s left leg come down beside her right and slid out of her, stepping under the water so it could wash him clean as he pulled her away from the wall and into the deluge beside him. They clung to each other in exhaustion as Claire cleaned herself with a washcloth, then Nate shut off the cooling water and wrapped Claire in one of the soft grey towels beside the shower. She knotted it around her chest and reciprocated; the towel that seemed small over his broad shoulders looped neatly around his hips, and the two of them staggered out of the bathroom like war veterans. Nate stripped off his towel and then Claire’s, threw back the coverlet on her bed, wrapped her in a bear hug, and rolled them both under the covers. Claire’s head rested on Nate’s bicep and his other arm curved around to pull her back into his chest as he spooned her. She carefully looped her long hair, still wet, onto the pillow above her so it wouldn’t be in his face or on the sheets between them. Nate was asleep within seconds, his soft breath on her cheek, and Claire only had time to smile slightly before she slipped into sleep with surprising ease, too. 

Claire awoke from muddled, conflicting dreams, to a delightful, spicy-spelling warmth. Fingers were running softly up and down her arm, and a rough, stubbly chin was rubbing against her neck in all the places that made her thrill and giggle. Nate Jacobs was nibbling at her earlobe and gently squeezing one of her nipples under the covers, and Claire opened her eyes to see his arm extended near the pillow she was laying on. Nate’s hand left her breast and slid down her flat stomach to the top of her hip. He shifted slightly behind her, and she felt the tip of his cock slide between her folds back and forth a few times to ease his entry. Then Nate was pushing himself inside her again, slowly enough so she felt every inch as he pulled her hip against him and pressed deep. It hurt, but not in a wholly bad way. Claire closed her eyes and focused on the welcome agony of being stretched wide around him, and when she clenched and unclenched her inner muscles a few times in experimentation, Nate drew in quick breaths and his fingers dug into her hip. He thrust slowly, alternating deep, scooping thrusts with shorter, shallow ones that pressed on some inner place that made Claire’s heart thunder. The build was different this time, much slower, but as powerful as the draw of the retreating tide. Claire found herself gasping, clutching the bedsheets, as the slow, relentless thrusting once again overcame her. Nate kept going after she shuddered and bucked with pleasure, and before long she felt the tide drawing her out again.

“Nate, fuck, Nate!” she gasped, and his arm wrapped around her as they finished together. She felt his heart galloping against her chest and his fingers entwined with hers as he rested inside her, a sweet gesture that she hardly expected from Nate Jacobs. 

_Nate Jacobs_ , Claire repeated to herself, frowning slightly. _What the hell was she thinking?_ It was hard to deny the reality of him, when his intoxicating smell ( _How did he still smell like that after a shower and sleeping in her bed?_ ) filled her nostrils and his cock filled her body. He’d slept over, holding her tenderly. They’d fucked three times already, and for her the thrill was definitely not gone. Hopefully it was getting close for him. She turned her head over her shoulder to see if she could detect any boredom on his face, but he smiled one-sidedly at her and kissed her instead. Claire frowned and turned back around, thinking. He was still inside her, and rather than softening and withdrawing, he seemed to be growing hard again. Claire squeezed internally and was rewarded with a rough thrust by a fully erect cock. _Nate Jacobs is apparently a porn star_ , she mused, stifling a laugh. He interpreted her stirrings as welcome, and pressed her left thigh against her body so he could flip her onto her back and settle between her legs without withdrawing. Nate threw off the blankets covering them and looked down at their joining, apparently mesmerized by the sight of his cock sinking into her. Claire followed his gaze, somewhat surprisingly equally fascinated. Nate was quicker this time; his thrusts rapidly became hard and deep as he leaned over her and held her hands down at the wrists. Claire’s fingers tickled with decreased circulation, but she enjoyed being immobilized while he took her with abandon more than she wanted to admit to herself. She watched his face as he released inside her again, almost brought to her own completion just witnessing his. 

“Holy fuck, Claire,” he breathed into her hair as he held himself up above her. 

She laughed that time, but it was not a mocking laugh -- it was full of genuine amusement and appreciation for this strange man who seemed to defy all of her expectations. When his eyes opened to scan her face for the meaning of the laugh, she let her own eyes soften and she kissed him lightly on the lips. 

“You’re going to kill me, Nate Jacobs,” she joked, groaning and writhing playfully under him. He released her arms and rolled away. 

“How long is your dad away?” Nate asked suddenly, gazing up at her ceiling. Claire frowned again at the implications of the question, but answered honestly. 

“Five days.”

“Five days,” he repeated, musing. 

She watched him closely, but he didn’t reveal his thoughts. Instead, he changed the subject.

“It’s Friday. I have a game tonight. You should come.”

Claire frowned. “Not sure I can - still suspended till Monday, remember?”

“It’s an away game. You could sit on the home side.”

Claire pondered this - not because she was particularly interested in football, but because she wondered why he wanted her to be there. If he was making plans for the next five days, he wasn’t bored yet. _Hm._ She could only continue to justify yielding to him if it ultimately made him lose interest. But she didn’t want to cut him off too early or else his preoccupation with her might be worse than before. She just wondered how long it would take. 

“Maybe,” Claire replied noncommittally, slipping out of the bed and shrugging into the sheer robe she’d worn yesterday that was discarded on the floor before she headed into the bathroom. When she emerged, the bed was empty, and she breathed a sigh of relief and only a little disappointment. Her hair had dried curly and wild, and she ran a brush through it a few times before putting on her running clothes and heading for the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before, but she didn’t want to eat before a run; that always ended badly. Claire stuck her head under the kitchen tap and drank directly from the faucet, but she almost knocked herself out on it when she felt two hands on her waist and stood up hurriedly. She spun around and came face to face with Nate Jacobs, who had pinned her against the cabinet and was bracing his palms on the sink edge behind her as he leaned over to close his lips over hers. 

She let him kiss her, then pushed back against his chest and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I thought you left. You almost gave me a heart attack. Again.” 

Fortunately, he was dressed, but he reached over into the cabinet next to her head and pulled out a bowl. 

“I haven’t had cereal in years,” he told her absently. “Got any?”

Claire crossed her arms. “Behind you.” He turned and pulled a box of Cheerios out of the cupboard, then headed to the fridge and removed the milk, carrying his collection over to the table. 

“So do you live here now?” Claire joked, grabbing a spoon from the utensil drawer and placing it next to his bowl as he took a seat with supreme confidence and poured his cereal and milk. He looked at her with what could only be described as a shit-eating-grin on his face.

“For the next five days,” he answered, picking up the spoon and shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. 

Claire laughed aloud and shook her head. “Unbelievable. Well, I’m going for a run.”

Nate nodded, his mouth full of Cheerios.

Claire grabbed her phone and her headphones as she headed out the door, walking somewhat gingerly. Her body felt strangely alien, alive to new feelings in places that were typically not given much conscious attention. Claire did her stretches slowly, as if discovering herself for the first time. She had to be cautious; she could detect bruises on the backs of her thighs and her guts felt a little in turmoil. Claire launched into a slow job down her driveway, testing. She was used to running through most discomfort, so she got into a rhythm relatively quickly and cranked up her playlist, mixing sprints down the straightaways into a path she’d established through the neighborhood. Running was always her way of processing things, but oddly as soon as her mind turned to Nate, she seemed incapable of coming up with any kind of concrete plan. Her thoughts slid over him like water in the shower… Her brain kept replaying images and sensations from the last twelve hours instead of settling into anything resembling a logical thought process. She was so lost in memories that she jogged all the way into her front door, heading for the kitchen. Once again she stuck her head under the tap to gulp down some water, then she shut off the faucet and stood upright quickly. 

The combination of lack of food, strenuous exercise, and bending up and down too fast must have been too much, because as soon as she came up, Claire felt suddenly lightheaded. She grabbed onto the edge of the sink and slid down onto her right hip, managing to make it to the ground before black fingers covered her eyes and she slumped onto her side, head pillowed on her outstretched right arm. 


	9. Alternate reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate doesn't go home. This is surprisingly comfortable for Claire.

Nate heard a muffled thump from the kitchen and came down the hall out of Claire’s bathroom, a towel around his hips the only covering on his freshly showered body. Immediately he saw Claire slumped on the floor in a pool of sunshine, her golden hair spread in a fan. Nate’s heart dropped, and he sank to his knees beside her and touched her face, her arms, her breastbone; though her skin was clammy, she was breathing and her pulse was strong. 

“Claire!” He said her name loudly, but she didn’t stir. Apparently she had passed out, which made Nate both angry and guilty, a maelstrom of emotions that he was not great at processing. Inexplicably seething, he gathered her up off the floor and walked toward the L-shaped couch in the living room. 

Claire blinked, and her world consisted of Nate Jacob’s liquid brown eyes and five o’clock shadow. He had her in his arms - against his bare chest - and was carrying her somewhere. She tried to sit up, but his hands clamped down on her firmly.

“Be still,” he commanded, an unfamiliar edge in his voice that demanded compliance.

“What happened?” Claire inquired groggily, squeezing her temples between the thumb and forefingers of one hand. 

“You passed out on the kitchen floor,” he responded tersely, and Claire could hear the anger in his voice.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she protested indignantly, annoyed that he seemed to think it was her fault. “I’ve never passed out before.”

Nate laid her on the couch and sat beside her, his thick brows drawn together with accusation or worry, Claire wasn’t sure. 

“How long since you ate?”

Claire looked down, then gazed up at him through her lashes. “Yesterday afternoon sometime. I had an, um, _unexpected visitor_ in the evening, and I can’t eat before I run.” 

“Goddammit, Claire, you have to be careful!” Nate almost-shouted, standing up and pacing in front of her. 

“Whoa, buddy. You need to calm down.” Claire braced herself on her elbows and glared at him. “It’s cute that you’re worried about me, but your emotional spectrum has to expand a little beyond ‘angry’ if you expect to hang around much longer.”

Nate cut his eyes over to her furiously, but then he took a few deep, long breaths. His hands clenched and unclenched by his side several times. 

“You should eat something,” he said. 

“Grab me one of the protein bars from the cabinet where you got the cereal,” Claire said gently, a little surprised that he’d managed to control his anger. He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a silver-wrapped bar and a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” Claire said with genuine gratitude, sitting up and reaching for the proffered items as Nate sat beside her again. She leaned against him as she drank half the water in a few gulps and took two big bites from the protein bar. He reached out a long arm to encircle her shoulders and steadied her against his side as she finished her small meal. Claire rested against him for a few moments, grateful for his size and warmth. 

“I think I’m good,” she said hesitantly after a few moments in - again, surprisingly - comfortable silence. “And I need a shower, too,” she laughed, acknowledging for the first time that Nate was just dressed in a towel. 

She stood, and Nate was instantly at her side when she wobbled slightly, holding her around the waist. She put her hands down on top of his and grinned sheepishly. “Wheeee! Feeling a little like we rode the Tilt-a-Whirl again.”

“I’m coming with you,” he said levelly.

“I don’t think I can handle that right now, Nate. I’m still working on standing up.” She laughed again, but he frowned at the shared mental image of their last joint shower, knowing she suspected that was all he wanted from her. “Just to take care of you,” he clarified.

Those words sounded exceptionally odd coming out of Nate Jacob’s mouth, but he certainly wasn’t a stranger to the actions they entailed, since he and Aaron had done that the night of the party. 

Claire nodded, a little touched by his inexplicable tenderness, and allowed Nate to walk her down the hallway to her room, her arm looped under his elbow. She let him seat her on the bed and pull off her sneakers and socks, then pull her to her feet and slide her running pants and underwear over her hips. She raised her arms dutifully when he lifted the elastic edge of her sports bra up and over her head. Then he scooped her into his arms again and carried her into the bathroom, placing her down in the shower stall and stepping out to hang his own towel up again as she turned on the water. He stepped up right behind her, his arousal once again obvious, but made no move to do anything except support her. Claire soaped her body, but when it became clear she was going to bend down to get her knees and feet, Nate took the soap from her and commanded her to stand up with his eyes. He was a very compelling nonverbal communicator, Claire decided, as he washed her from the waist down. She scrubbed her hair and rinsed it out, holding onto Nate with one arm as she tilted her head back into the water, still a little dizzy. It didn’t appear that she had hit her head on the way down to the kitchen floor, so that was a relief. 

“Do you mind?” she said, pointing to the conditioner. “It’s supposed to sit for a few minutes.” Her hair, while silky, was on the thick side and tended to get tangled if she didn’t regularly condition it. 

“Nah,” he said, though Claire wasn’t entirely sure by his tone if he was being honest. She squeezed a handful into her palm anyway and worked it through her hair, which almost reached the back of her thighs when wet. Then she grabbed Nate Jacobs by the biceps - very solid biceps, she noted, that she couldn’t even get close to encircling - and turned him around so the warm water ran down his back. He’d probably been cold, just watching her shower outside of the spray, but he hadn’t given any indication. Claire leaned into his chest and rested her cheek on his skin, wrapping her arms around his waist. He stood for a moment, probably a little thrown, before draping his arms over her, too. There was so much unspoken between them, but neither felt a pressing need to talk it out. After several minutes, Claire moved first. Though he was putting on a good show, she doubted Nate’s patience with this strange intimacy was infinite, especially since he was still rock hard. She looked up at him.

“I can probably manage now if you want to dry off.” He looked down into her eyes for the span of a few heartbeats, then nodded slightly and spun her back into the water before stepping out and grabbing his towel again. Claire watched him go -- the long, fine lines of him. She smiled privately, shaking her head a little at her own foolishness. It was hard to get tired of looking at Nate. He was a marvelous specimen of masculinity, and it compensated for an uncounted number of other evils, most of which Claire knew she probably couldn’t even imagine. She washed the conditioner out of her hair cautiously, the sheer amount she needed making the tile floor dangerously slippery until it sluiced down the drain, then shut off the water and grabbed her own towel. She grabbed a spare towel and wrapped her hair in it, piling it on top of her head for the few moments it took to lower the first towel and scope out her body. She had some light bruising on her hips, and a deepening bruise on the back of her thigh where Nate’s hipbone had dug into her skin with his more aggressive thrusts. The warmth of the shower had helped, but she still felt a little hollowed out and sore. They had certainly not held back over the last few hours. The memory thrilled through Claire’s whole body like a lightning strike, and she wrapped herself in the towel again and took down her hair, toweling it vigorously a few times. Claire hung the towel and came out of the bathroom where Nate was standing in his boxers and gazing out her window. Still not fully dressed. Still not in any hurry to leave, apparently. 

“Don’t you have a game today? Can you play if you missed school?” she asked, turning toward her closet to remove a soft cotton shirtdress. She tugged it over her head, letting the towel drop only after it had covered her body. 

“I texted Coach. It’s fine. I’ll show up when the team gets on the bus.”

“Well, then,” Claire observed, “I guess I’ll make us a proper lunch then.” 

Without waiting for his answer, she headed back to the kitchen.

“Alexa, play classical music.” The smartspeaker launched a playlist of soft orchestral songs, most of which Claire knew and hummed along to as she pulled out ground beef and the makings of burgers. Since Nate had to play tonight, she figured he needed something more substantial than Cheerios, too. Claire had formed the patties and washed her hands by the time Nate joined her in the kitchen, and again she felt his hands on her hips from behind. Claire was less startled this time, though the hardness pressing into her back when she leaned against him made her eyes widen. He’d shown impressive restraint in the shower, but now that Claire was steadier on her feet, apparently Nate was ready for a reprise. She realized she had _only_ put on the cotton shirtdress as Nate’s hands crept under its hem and brushed over her bare skin. When she didn’t protest his wandering hands, he ran them palm-down over her stomach and up to her breasts, squeezing gently but firmly as he bent down enough to brush his lips over her neck. Claire tilted her head to give him better access, starting to breathe more heavily. One of his hands slid back down, reaching between her legs from behind. A long finger found her clit and rubbed gently while he nuzzled her neck with soft lips and tickly stubble, and that was enough for Claire. Nate felt her slick readiness and confirmed it by sliding a finger into her, a preliminary penetration that made Claire gasp and reach for Nate’s cheek, pulling his lips onto hers as he freed himself from his boxers and lifted her slightly so her hip bones rested on the tall counter edge. From there, he didn’t have to bend his knees so much to align properly as he pressed her chest down onto the countertop and eased himself into her, that wild, low growl in his throat rumbling through her whole body as Claire’s stomach muscles clenched and she bit back a cry. He felt amazing, but she wondered if her body would ever adjust to his size. His first full thrust bottomed out inside her, a sensation that was a uniquely pleasurable pain that he compounded by knotting her long hair around his fist and pulling her head back slightly for the next thrust. Nate’s rhythm quickly increased, and after the first dozen rough drives into her, the pain started to overpower the pleasure, and Claire reached behind her, trying to touch his taut belly to push him back so he didn’t go so deep. Nate saw her reaching hands and took them in his own, squeezing her fingers once before he trapped her wrists in the small of her back and kept going, nearing his completion and almost blind to her more subtle signals.

“Nate!” Claire gasped, struggling slightly to free her arms. He was so impossibly strong, and Claire felt breathless and a little terrified. “Nate!” It was all she could manage as he drove deep again, taking her cries for encouragement, and then his body shook with a powerful climax and he bucked against her, his hips digging into her soft ass as he pushed her to her absolute limit. 

“Nate!” Claire cried again, and the desperation in her voice shook him up enough so he withdrew hastily and pulled her down off the counter, turning her in his arms so he could see her face, which was drawn and white. 

He said her name in a strained voice as she groaned and clenched her eyes closed, pressing both hands against her lower abdomen. 

“Fuck, Claire, I hurt you.” It wasn’t a question. 

He hadn’t just been ignoring her discomfort then, she realized. He had been totally oblivious. His face said everything he couldn’t, and Claire relaxed a little. “I think we need a safe word,” she joked, a strained smile thinning her voice. “I’m not sure you know how big you are.” 

Nate’s chin dropped to his chest and he didn’t smile in return, which was close to an apology as he was likely to give. He pulled her against his chest and lifted her into his arms again. Claire found herself back on the sofa on Nate’s lap, his bottomless brown eyes searching hers.

“Tell me what to do,” he said gruffly, but Claire had so little experience with this kind of thing that she didn’t know what would help. 

“Shit, I don’t know! Just give me a minute,” she whispered. The pain was less acute now, and was starting to resolve into a dull aching way up inside her. He watched the color coming back into her cheeks, and the emotion Nate couldn’t identify as profound fear retreated somewhat at the same time. He hadn’t meant to be too rough; he’d gotten carried away, something that didn’t often happen to him unless he was angry. But now he cursed himself silently; Claire had been through a lot in the last day, and he knew that position gave him a deeper access than front-facing ones. He’d only had her for the first time the day before, and he knew he was a lot to handle even for experienced lovers. Nate reached down and pressed his broad palm onto Claire’s belly, its fiery heat soothing the ache somewhat. 

“That's better,” Claire told him, then reached up and brushed her fingertips along his perfect jawline. “I’ll be alright.” 

Nate ducked his head and kissed a line up from her neck to her lips. “You’re hard to resist. I’ll try to slow down.” 

Claire was brutally honest with both him and herself: “I don’t particularly want you to. It’s pretty fucking hot when you’re rough and demanding, Nate. But I do have my limits, apparently. All the safe words I can think of sound ridiculous, though,” she laughed. 

“I can pay attention,” Nate answered, clearly not interested in the idea of a potentially silly safe word, either. 

“You can help with burgers, too,” Claire grinned. “Now help me up,” she squirmed in his lap, not sure where to put her hands to get any leverage. He just cradled her in his arms again and stood straight up, then bent slightly to put her feet down. When she stood upright, she gasped and doubled over again, and Nate knelt hurriedly in front of her, his hands on her waist. 

“Claire!” he growled, anguish making his voice scratchy. 

She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting that. Went too fast.” Claire stood up more slowly and winked at him when it proved only mildly uncomfortable. “See? Meet you in the kitchen.” She stopped off at the half bath to clean up, then walked gingerly into the kitchen to see Nate (dressed in jeans but no shirt) looking through the cabinets for a frying pan. Claire pointed to the drawer under the range, and Nate brought out the biggest one while Claire started to pull the fixings out of the fridge: lettuce, tomato, ketchup, mustard… her hand hesitated over the barbeque sauce - her favorite condiment - before turning away in uncharacteristic timidity. Somehow, letting Nate in on her barbeque sauce addiction seemed a little too emotionally intimate. Nate watched her assemble everything as the pan heated, then as Claire started laying the patties out to cook, Nate opened and closed the fridge and added the bottle of barbeque sauce to the collection. 

“I’m a heathen, I know. I don’t do ketchup and mustard; just this.” 

Claire squinted at him. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s weird, I get it.”

“No, dude. I thought I was the only one who did that. Barbeque sauce and hot sauce are my go-tos,” Claire confessed.

Nate snorted amusement, but then by unspoken agreement put the ketchup and mustard back in the fridge. 

Claire figured she’d push her luck. “Want onion?”

“Only if you can stand it,” Nate replied. _Two for two_ , noted Claire. 

“You’d better quit, or I’ll start to like you. I saute the rings; it’s a little milder than raw. Grab some potatoes from the bottom drawer while you’re at it.”

 _Nate’s a big help in the kitchen_ , she mused, vastly entertained as he loaded up an onion and about ten potatoes in his long-fingered hands with ease. 

They talked for the first time, really, staying away from family or school or mutual acquaintances. He told her about his crazy workout routine, she told him about her dancing. They talked about music and where Claire wanted to travel, and the idea that there was a world outside of East Highland seemed to dawn on Nate with unexpected possibility.

“My dad’s whole universe is this zip code,” he explained. “He’s built half of this place. I guess it’s easy to get caught up in that.”

Claire pondered this. Nate did certainly seem to be intently focused on this narrow world: popularity contests, petty revenges, schemes, and lies. He’d grown up here, after all, and had never known anywhere else. That was hard for Claire to relate to, but she understood Nate a little better with that perspective.

“Well, I’ve been to a lot of places, and East Highland certainly doesn’t lack for drama. But Nate,” she paused, resting a hand on his forearm and meeting his eyes when he stopped cutting potato wedges and looked down at her. “There’s good stuff out there. And what matters here -- matters a whole lot less everywhere else.” He held her gaze, his thoughts unreadable behind opaque mahogany eyes. She smiled lightly, letting the subject drop. They finished food prep as Claire led Nate through a play-by-play of her favorite songs via Alexa. Oddly, Nate didn’t really have any favorites; when she asked him what he listened to, he just shrugged and said, “Whatever’s on the radio or what the guys are playing during practice.” 

Claire had a sneaking suspicion that Nate didn’t engage with music on an emotional level. She was getting the distinct impression that emotions other than anger either didn’t compute for Nate or just triggered anger because he couldn’t process them. He was a simmering cauldron of powerful emotions that he refused to acknowledge and didn’t understand. Maybe one of the things that drew him to her was that she was completely grounded: self-aware, open, and comfortable with her inner life. She didn’t dwell too long on her theories, and soon they were seated at the table digging into burgers with sauteed onion rings and baked potato wedges, all slathered in barbeque sauce. Claire only made it through about three-fourths of hers, but Nate polished off three whole burgers (only one with a bun) and a half a plate of potatoes. She handed him the remains of her plate and he mowed through that, too. 

“Food coma,” Claire teased, pretending to nod off at the table. She gathered up their plates and loaded up the dishwasher while Nate very inexpertly tried to handwash the frying pan. 

“When do you have to get on the bus?” Claire asked, realizing she had absolutely no idea what time it was. 

“Three,” Nate answered. They both looked over at the digital clock on the microwave, then at each other. It was noon. 

“Nap?” Claire proposed, and Nate actually smiled all the way into his eyes. 

“Lead the way,” he gestured down the hall. 

“Oh hell yeah!” Claire scampered as best she could toward her bedroom and flopped onto the bed. Nate crawled in beside her, putting his hands above his head so she could rest her cheek on the slight indent between his chest and shoulder. He didn't make a very good pillow, but Claire was suddenly exhausted. Nate brought his arm down and wrapped it around her, and she rested one knee on his thigh. She felt him setting an alarm on his phone, which had been in his pocket and which he now placed on the bedside table. Claire’s last waking memory was Nate turning his head to kiss her lightly on the forehead before she slipped into sleep. 


	10. A stolen season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut, so steer clear if that isn't your thing. 
> 
> Nate convinces Claire to come to his evening away game, but things don't go as planned.

“Claire,” Nate was saying. “Wake up.”

His hand was on her cheek. Claire blinked her eyes and met Nate’s deep brown ones. 

“Is it time to wake up?” Claire asked groggily, a little disoriented. She felt like she’d slept ten minutes or ten hours, and she wasn’t sure which.

“Not quite. You were saying my name.”

Claire raised her eyebrows. “I was? Interesting. Must have been dreaming again.”

It was Nate’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Again?”

She huffed, but it wasn’t in her nature to hide truths. “Yeah.”

Nate smiled at this. “And what do I do in your dreams?” 

Claire looked through her lashes at him. “Mostly what you do in real life.”

“And…?” he asked, trailing a finger down between her collarbones.

“Like I said, mostly what you do in real life.” Her expression was playful.

“How are you feeling?” he asked hesitantly, running a hand down her chest so it rested palm-down on her flat belly. Claire moved her hips slightly, testing.

“Okay, I think.” She knew what he was getting at; she could feel his erect hardness digging into her hip. In answer to his unspoken question, she kissed him gently on the lips, pulling him close and letting her hands range over his broad shoulders and down his arms. Their kiss intensified, and when her fingers popped open the top button on his jeans, he growled in the back of his throat, something Claire was learning was a uniquely Nate habit that inexplicably excited her. He shed his clothes quickly, then his hands were sliding under her shirtdress and his knees were pushing her thighs apart as he lowered himself over her. 

Whatever dream she’d been having about him had clearly prepared her for this because he sheathed himself in her with one long stroke and a low groan. Claire threw back her head and breathed out hard, still shocked by how huge he felt. She squirmed a little, and Nate’s fists balled into her hair.

“Fuuuuck, Claire,” he breathed against her neck, then kissed her passionately as he withdrew slightly and pushed back in. He stopped when she tensed around him at the end of his thrust. 

“Not all the way,” she warned, “Unless you go really slowly.” He nodded, veins popping on his forehead with the effort of restraint. But he obliged, alternating shallower, quick thrusts with an occasional deep, slow advance that made them both gasp and clutch each other breathlessly. The gradual build was agonizingly intense, and at one point Nate leaned back till he was perpendicular with her body and watched his cock enter her with each thrust, rubbing her clit with a thumb as he brought her right over the edge. Claire flushed and cried out, shaking and clenching him hard with her inner muscles as she gave herself over to him completely. Watching her surrender made Nate wild with desire, and he crushed her against him as he pulled her onto his lap, letting her legs fall on either side of his hips as he drove her down on his cock with his hands digging into her ass cheeks. Claire, still trembling with aftershocks, felt only ecstasy as he finished, his head thrown back and his mouth open, his powerful body shuddering with release. She kissed a line down his sweaty chest, then her salty lips met his as she ran her fingers through his hair at the back of his neck. 

Nate shifted her weight to rest on one forearm as he lowered her back down to the bed, then gave her a few gentle pecks before withdrawing and throwing himself onto the sheets beside her. His hand sought her hand and his fingers twined through hers again. Claire smiled slightly. _Always full of surprises, Nate Jacobs_. After they lay hand-in-hand for a few moments letting their hearts settle into a steady rhythm, Claire turned her head to look over at Nate. His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted, and he seemed so peaceful she hardly knew him. 

“This is not life, Will. It is a stolen season,” she quoted in a whisper, more to herself than to him, but Nate opened his eyes and met her gaze with those impenetrable brown eyes.

“What does that mean?” he asked softly.

Claire laughed, a little surprised he had heard; she’d wondered if he had drifted off again.

“It’s from an old movie,” she replied candidly. “One of… my mom’s favorites.” 

Nate seemed to recognize that as an acknowledgement of connection, even if he didn’t fully grasp it. 

“It just means it’ll be back to reality soon,” Claire added, squeezing his hand once before sitting up. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s almost 2.” She stood and headed for the bathroom, finding herself in the shower for the third time in less than 24 hours. Claire was contemplating washing her hair and decided against it, and she couldn’t help grinning when Nate joined her after a few moments. With somewhat astounding stamina and apparently no slackening of desire, he took her once more before toweling off vigorously and planting a kiss on her forehead. Claire watched him leave the bathroom, shaking her head slightly as she appreciated his impressive stature and sculpted physique from behind. Nate had no modesty at all, apparently. _Not that he has any reasons to hide anything,_ Claire observed with amusement. _It would be a gift to everyone if he just walked around naked most of the time_ . She knew that she’d have difficulty seeing him anywhere without conjuring the mental images of the past day, and she flushed again as the thought of seeing him walk onto the football field in full uniform made her body conjure the memory of feeling him fill her with his cock. _Damn Nate Jacobs,_ she cursed as she wrapped herself in her own towel and headed out of the bathroom, scanning her closet when she realized Nate had already dressed and left the room, possibly the house. 

It had certainly been a surreal series of encounters, but Claire steeled herself for the very real possibility that it was over now, and all that would be left would be some awkward moments where Nate avoided her at school. _It’s_ _for the best_ , she told herself. For all his moments of tenderness, he was still Nate Jacobs, and she couldn’t risk being in his orbit for too long. Claire sighed and pulled on another set of pajamas before padding out of the room and back down to the kitchen. Nate was grabbing his keys and had his hand on the door when he turned and saw her.

“What are you wearing? The game is at 6. It’s in Ambler, next town over. I’ll text you the address.”

Claire was somewhat taken aback. He seemed to assume she would go to the game, when he’d only casually mentioned it before. 

“Oh,” she stuttered, her surprise apparent. “You want me to go?”

He seemed to hesitate, as if thinking seriously about it for the first time. “Yeah. But you should sit on the home side.”

“Okay, maybe,” she replied, and when Nate seemed disappointed, she added, “Text me the address. You’d better get going.” He nodded and turned to go, then thought better of it and wrapped her in his arms one more time, his kiss full of poorly reigned-in lust. Claire thrilled in both terror and anticipation as she wondered just what it would take to wear Nate Jacobs out. She closed the door behind him and then rested her back against it, sliding down to the floor and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“You can handle this, Clare McCann,” she said aloud. _He can have my body, but never my heart._

Before long, Claire’s phone chimed, and she saved Nate’s number. Apparently he’d gotten hers somehow, though how she had no idea. Maybe Aaron? Nate certainly had his ways of getting what he wanted. She clicked her phone off and stared at the blank screen, pondering. She didn’t really have any desire to go to a football game, or to sit with a bunch of strangers. She’d never understood athletes wanting people to come to their games. It always freaked her out when she knew anyone in her circle was watching her; she was not one of those people who begged their parents to come to recitals or track meets. Most of the time she begged her dad NOT to go. It wasn’t that she was afraid she would humiliate herself; firstly, Claire didn’t mind if she did even though most of the time she was competent enough so the possibility was remote, but she hated being in the spotlight. It was distracting to know that someone was watching her in particular. But Nate was a different breed. Who knew what his motivations were? 

Finally, after much back-and-forth arguing with herself, Claire decided it was probably better to get out of the house after almost 5 full days in hiding and start mentally preparing herself for facing Maddy and Finn. _Ugh, Finn. Who is also on the football team_ . Sighing, she changed out of her pajamas and tried on a pair of jeans, which despite being a little too big were uncomfortable against the new tenderness between her legs. She opted for a jean skirt instead - not the one she’d worn to the party; even though it was old and a little small, at least it didn’t fall too low on her hips. Claire pulled on a plain black fitted t-shirt and borrowed one of her dad’s baseball caps, dragging her hair through the opening in the back to form a kind of ponytail. She slid her feet into black ballet flats and stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, assessing if she looked sufficiently undercover. _Good enough_ , she decided. 

Claire plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, barely listening as she scrolled through social media, which she rarely did. She Google mapped the address Nate had given her and checked her purse to see if she had any cash for entrance tickets to the game; this other school was about a 30 minute drive away, so she had some time to kill before she had to leave. Nothing really new in the world of curated seeming-perfection on her phone, so Claire checked in with some of her friends from home (wherever home was), conveniently failing to mention that she’d spent the last day in Nate’s arms. She questioned for a moment her lack of interest in sharing, but prior to near-adulthood her life had been pretty simple; now, she felt she had a right to some privacy. Her friends didn’t have to know everything, and she could choose when to tell them what. She sat with this a minute, trying to decide if it was a healthy assessment or a justification, but she didn’t feel dishonest or ashamed, so she shrugged and moved on. Her thoughts darted all over -- from memories of Nate that were so immediate she almost felt them physically to how vehemently she had told Finn, “There is no me and Nate! There never will be!” She cringed a little at that one. How could she have known Nate would show up in her kitchen and she’d ultimately be so powerless to resist him? Claire stared at her hands. It wasn’t even that. If she had to be honest with herself, she had not been passive. She had wanted Nate as much as he had wanted her on a physical level, though she still knew better than to form any real attachment to him. Nate was a bull in a china shop -- his very nature made him a threat to anything delicate, which he would damage without even intending to and utterly destroy if he had harmful intent. Both of which Nate was fully capable of, Claire knew. His enormous height and powerful hands, while unbelievably sexy when wielded for pleasure, could be terrifying with a different agenda. Besides, he was self-destructive enough; she didn’t want to be collateral damage. 

She was so lost in her thoughts that she was a little late leaving after all. Claire drove her dad’s old sedan (the one he left behind for local jaunts when he was off on longer trips in the newer car) which had only recently been delivered by a moving service. She cranked up the radio, rolled down the windows, and sang along unabashedly, determined to enjoy herself. Claire had a decent voice; she wasn’t ever going to be a professional singer, but she could carry a tune reasonably well, and she enjoyed belting out the songs fairly effortlessly. The drive passed too quickly; Claire started to get a little nervous as she followed the crowd of cars into the large parking lot of the rival high school, very uncreatively named Ambler Senior High. After she parked, Claire added a pair of dark aviator sunglasses to her disguise and got out of the car, heading for the ticket booth. She paid full price vs. producing her school ID for the student discount, then walked into the stadium, searching the bleachers for an empty spot on the home side. As Claire was contemplating her options, someone came up behind her and placed a hand on her lower back. She spun, startled, and saw Cal Jacobs staring down at her with a grin on his face.

“I thought that was you!” he bellowed merrily, fortunately not calling her by name. Claire looked around hurriedly, wondering how he spotted her so easily. Cal answered, as if reading her mind. “I’d recognize that hair anywhere.” Claire sighed deeply, somewhat embarrassed that she’d forgotten how distinctive her long hair could be. 

“Hi Mr. Jacobs,” she said cautiously. 

“Where are you sitting?” he asked magnanimously, all smiles and easy welcome.

“Oh, I was going to go over there,” she pointed toward an open bleacher toward the top of the home side. Cal laughed.

“That’s the other team’s side, hon,” he clarified, somewhat condescendingly. 

Claire forced herself to smile. 

“Well, I don’t know much about football, but I do know that.”

“Touche!” Cal declared. “Come sit with me. Unless,” he looked around suddenly, wary of assuming. “You’re here with friends. Is your dad around?”

“Just me,” Claire replied simply, and Cal Jacobs took her arm as if that was confirmation enough and looped it over his own, steering her toward the East Highland bleachers. Cal seemed surprised by her solitude, but he hid it quickly. “Me, too. I come to all of the games. But of course you knew that.” 

Claire panicked a little, digging in her heels. “That’s so nice of you, Mr. Jacobs, but…” she paused, trying to decide which truth would be least awkward. “I’m not sure I’m even supposed to be here.”

Cal stopped and looked at her. “Why not?”

So apparently Nate hadn’t told his dad she’d gotten suspended. No big surprise since Nate didn’t seem particularly communicative with his family. Fortunately that meant Cal probably didn’t know that Nate had slept over at her house last night or skipped school today. Claire sighed again. 

“Well, I’m technically suspended till Monday.”

Cal raised his eyebrows in an expression that was hauntingly familiar. 

“You? What on earth did you do?”

“It’s a long story, Mr. Jacobs.”

“Well,” he drawled, patting her hand on top of his arm, “we’ve got a whole game to watch, so you can tell me if you want. I won’t let them haul you out; I’ve got some clout in this town, you know. And a lady can’t sit alone, not while I have any say in the matter!” His chivalry was obviously a joking contrivance, but Claire could tell he meant to escort her along to the bleachers on the East Highland side no matter what she said. Claire let him start guiding her, pulling the brim of her hat down and dragging her long ponytail over her shoulder, away from the field. 

“Okay, but can we sit over there?” She pointed again to a spot away from the assembled cheerleaders, who were facing the field as the announcer started to rattle off the names of the players as they ran out of the fieldhouse. 

“You read my mind. The cheerleaders always get in the way of my view of the field, and I like to sit behind the coach, get a sense of what he’s planning.” Claire could tell Cal dismissed the cheerleaders for more reasons than he said, but she was so relieved that he wouldn’t park her directly in front of Maddy that she almost cried. Claire sitting alongside Cal Jacbos - seemingly with all the approval and pride Maddy could never get from him - would be a slap in the face that would only exacerbate her rage, which was frankly the very last thing Claire needed. Given the lengths Maddy had proved she would already go to take Claire out of commission, she wasn’t exactly eager to find out what depths Maddy could sink to. Fortunately, Claire and Cal made it to their seats without Maddy even turning around, and Claire made a point to sit on the side of Cal that would place his substantial bulk between her and Maddy’s line of sight. Nate and his teammates had jogged out onto the field and were now seated in sideline chairs. He was clearly scanning the home side of the bleachers on the opposite side of the field and didn’t look her way either. Cal was shaking hands with the spectators around him; he apparently knew everyone in town. They had barely taken their seats when they were standing again for the national anthem, then the game started. Cal explained the first play to her, asking some questions to get a sense of what she knew and what she didn’t, then said casually,” So why’d you get suspended? You don’t seem like that kind of kid.”

Claire took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m not. Never been suspended before. But there’s a girl who’s been harassing me, and I had to stand up for myself.”

Cal’s eyes were on the field. “You got in a fight, huh?”

“Something like that,” Claire replied, pretending to be intent on the field, too. 

“Is she here tonight?” Cal asked, cracking his knuckles comically. “Need me to deck her?”

Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no, Mr. Jacobs, that won’t be necessary. I’m kind of hoping her issue with me will no longer be an issue.” 

“Mysterious,” Cal intoned. “You didn’t answer my question. Is she here?”

Ever forthright, Claire nodded. 

“Where?”

Claire joked, hoping to avoid answering the question directly. “I’m sure you’ve got more important things to worry about than high school drama.” 

“This is true,” Cal acknowledged, giving her the out even though she knew he was curious. He changed the subject. “Nate seems distracted tonight. He keeps looking around.” 

“Probably just getting the feel for a new place. Is your wife coming? Or Aaron?”

Cal’s eyes cut over to her at the mention of his older son. “Nah, they aren’t really sports fans. Watching Nate play makes Martha nervous.” At that moment, a colossal crash on the field drew both of their attention away; fortunately, Nate made it out of the pile of bodies unscathed and threw a perfect pass.

“First down!” Cal shouted, standing up and clapping. Nate’s attention was drawn in his father’s direction, and when Cal sat down again, Nate clearly noticed Claire sitting next to him. He stiffened visibly, staring at the two of them until one of his teammates snapped in his face. Cal watched his son’s reaction, then glanced down at Claire with new interest. Claire said nothing and sat with her shoulders hunched, trying to be unobtrusive. Cal glanced over at the cheerleaders, where Maddy stood with her eyes on Nate, then swiveled her head over to Cal. She squinted, noticing someone beside him but unsure of who it was. Cal caught her eye and stared back at her until she looked away. 

“It’s Maddy, isn’t it.” Cal stated it without much questioning intonation. 

Claire looked over at him. She said nothing, but her silence was all the confirmation Cal needed. 

“Hm,” he hummed pensively. “I won’t let her see you.”

“Thanks,” Claire said with genuine relief. “I really prefer to keep the drama to a minimum.”

“Now I get why you didn’t really want to sit over here,” Cal acknowledged. “That cat has claws.”

“You’re telling me,” Claire said bitterly. “I’d kind of like to survive my senior year.” 

“You’ve got six inches on her. I think you’d give her a run for her money if it came to that again,” Cal said, only half joking.

“Oh that’s the least of my worries,” Claire sighed. “It’s more what she’ll get others to do to me.”

Cal studied her. “Ominous.” 

“It’s okay, Mr. Jacobs, I can take care of myself. Sort of,” she acknowledged. 

“Sort of?” He pushed.

Feeling reckless and a little vindictive, Claire said, “Yeah. Provided she can’t convince any other linebackers to drug me at a party so they can...” she trailed off, mortified. 

Cal’s jaw bunched the way Nate’s did. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

Realizing she had said too much, Claire tried to minimize the damage. “I’m fine. Thanks to your sons, actually.”

“Aaron?” Cal asked, somewhat incredulous about this son’s involvement alone. 

“He came to my rescue. With Nate.” 

“Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Cal said, though what his voice registered most of all was surprise. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not a big deal. Like I said, hopefully it won’t even be an issue any more.” Claire stated confidently, as if trying to convince herself as much as Cal.

He was watching Nate on the field. The quarterback stole glances over in their direction whenever his mind wasn’t on the next play, and Cal added thoughtfully,“Well, if you’re hoping Nate will lose interest, I don’t know if that’s likely.” Both Cal and Claire looked up to see Nate staring at them again. 

“Maybe I should go,” Claire said. Cal looked over at Maddy, who was staring at Nate. The whole field was criss-crossed with loaded glances. 

“Don’t let her intimidate you,” Cal warned. “It was only a matter of time before Nate cut her off. She’s a dead end.” 

“I’m not worried about Maddy,” Claire insisted. Cal looked at her askance for a few moments, and intuited who she was referring to.

“Nate’s complicated, Claire. He’s had to be tough. Sometimes it’s made him… difficult.”

Claire was tempted to retort, “He’s the handsome son of a rich guy and the quarterback of his high school football team. What exactly about his life has required toughness?” But then she remembered seeing Cal at the hotel and bit her tongue. She sighed instead. 

“Toughness is overrated. Besides, I just want simplicity in my life right now.” 

“Seems like you’re pretty tough, though.”

Claire looked at him for a long moment. “I am. But there are many ways to be tough. Nate’s toughness means suppressing all of his emotions until he explodes in rage. My toughness is honest self-assessment and making hard choices so I can be true to myself.”

Cal blinked at her, unsure if her intensity was a reflection of conviction or a veiled message to him. Claire didn’t know anything about him, did she? Certainly not the one thing he thought no one knew. How could she? Unless that goddamn Jules had said something to her. That had been a colossal fuck-up, and the minute Cal had found out she had lied about her age, he had panicked. He felt that familiar panic now, but he was determined not to give anything away while he tried to figure out what Claire knew. 

“Well, that’s an admirable outlook. I think the reality is a little messier, though.”

Claire felt an odd surge of compassion for this man, who she knew was hiding a lot from this whole town and probably himself, too. It was lousy that he was cheating on Nate’s mom and was clearly ashamed of his less-than-straightforward sexuality, but Claire didn’t pass much judgment on his weird fetishes; as long as two consenting adults agreed on something that wasn’t harmful or abusive, it wasn’t really her business even if it wasn’t her style. She didn’t know how Nate had found out, but it seemed likely the knowledge had him twisted in knots he couldn’t untie. And that was pretty tragic. 

“You’re right, life is messy. Sometimes being true to oneself comes at a high cost. But there’s a cost to dishonesty, too,” she mused. 

She seemed to be philosophizing in a general sense, but her words were so applicable to his inner world that Cal wondered. She certainly didn’t seem to be threatening him with the truth, though, or disgusted by him, if she knew something. If anything, she seemed… empathetic. A little sad. He relaxed a little. 

Cal said what was on his mind. “You’re an old soul.” 

Claire smiled. “Yeah, that’s probably true. And this old soul is tired of high school drama.” She put her hand on Cal’s arm, which was resting on his thigh. “Thanks for the company, Mr. Jacobs. Would you mind if I snuck out?”

Caught up in his own worries, Cal shook his head. “Nah, go on. Be safe.” 

“See ya,” Claire said, standing quickly after a glance in Maddy’s direction to make sure she wasn’t watching. Luckily their seats were near the end of the bleachers, so Claire was able to slip behind them and make her way off the field and into the parking lot without drawing any attention to herself. 

She couldn’t be sure what Nate had thought of her sitting with his dad, but if he was pissed at her, it was again probably for the best. If her talking to Cal pushed Nate away, that was where he needed to be. She climbed into her car and drove home in the gathering dark. 


	11. Double life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate finds Claire again after the game.
> 
> The smut continues. We're just going for broke on the smut until they have to reconcile themselves to real life.

Claire came home and stripped off her skirt and skirt, throwing them onto a nearby armchair before she flopped on the couch, turning on the TV again. She replied to a check-in text from her dad with a photo of the TV screen, and he replied with an LOL emoji and a return pic of his hotel room TV and the words: “We live exciting lives.” 

Aloud, Claire said to herself, “You have no idea, Dad.”

She watched about an hour of one of the Die Hard sequels before dozing off wrapped in her mom’s quilt. She woke with a start sometime in the night and was about to turn over and try to get back to sleep when she noticed a silhouetted figure sitting in the chair next to the couch, watching her. Instantly terrified, Claire squeaked and grabbed for her phone, unsure whether she would try to call 911 or throw it at the figure’s head. 

“It’s just me, Claire.” Nate’s voice. Oddly emotionless.

“What the hell, Nate?!” Claire gasped, jittery with adrenaline. “How long have you been there?”

When he didn’t answer, Claire sat up and clicked on the lamp next to her, too wound up to get back to sleep. She pulled her mom’s quilt up under her arms, remembering she was just wearing a bra and underwear. The air stirred and she noticed a sharp smell.

“Are you drunk?” Claire marveled.

“Went to a party after the game,” Nate replied, unconcerned.

Claire ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head in disbelief. “Did you win?”

“Yeah.”

“Well why did you come back here? What time is it, anyway?” Claire stood up, wearing the quilt like a towel, and got a glass of water from the kitchen. She handed it to Nate and sat back down. 

“I saw you sitting with my dad.” He held the glass but didn’t drink it.

Claire took a deep breath. “I was trying to get to the home side, but he recognized me and said he wouldn’t let me sit alone. I managed to escape before long. That’s why I didn’t stay.”

Nate nodded, and Claire studied him carefully, trying to read his silence.  _ Was he mad?  _

“Maddy was at the party. She threw herself all over me.”

Claire felt an unwelcome twinge of jealousy. “Why didn’t you go home with her?”

Nate met her eyes for the first time. “Maddy and I are done. I told her that.”

Claire put her face in her hands, simultaneously relieved and concerned. “I doubt she took that well.” 

Nate half-smiled. “She didn’t.” 

“That’s going to make my Monday exciting.” 

“She was yelling about you.”

Claire groaned. “Shit.”

“I told her she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. I said I don’t give a shit about you.”

Claire looked over at him sharply, his words like a punch in the gut.  _ For the best,  _ she told herself. “Well, thanks I guess. You should go home, Nate. Drink the water so you don’t crash.” She stood and turned toward her bedroom, leaving the quilt despite her lack of clothing.

Nate stood beside her and caught her arm. “I just told her that to get her off your back.” 

“It’s fine, Nate. We shouldn’t be doing this anyway.” She shook his hand off her arm. 

“Claire, I want to stay.”

She hung her head, conflicted. “Okay. But once school starts on Monday, we go our separate ways.” He didn’t confirm or deny. Instead, he raised the glass or water she’d given him and drained it, then held it out to her. Claire took it and put it on the kitchen counter, taking his hand in hers as she pulled him toward the bedroom. 

He stretched out on her bed and was asleep in seconds. Claire looked down at Nate Jacobs, limbs akimbo on her bed, and shook her head again.  _ Life is so weird sometimes,  _ she mused. She flung a blanket over him, slid off his shoes, and headed into her dad’s bedroom so she could sort through her thoughts alone. 

Claire was up early, and she snuck carefully into her room where she half-expected to see her bed empty, Nate’s late arrival just a dream. But there he was - taking up her entire bed with his feet almost hanging off the edge. Claire giggled silently as she gathered up her running shoes and clothes. She changed out in the hall, cursing under her breath as her phone chimed in the hallway. She hurried over to check it, listening intently for any sign that Nate had woken. Claire checked the text. It was from Aaron.

_ Have you seen Nate? He hasn’t been home the last two nights.  _

Ugh. Claire hated lying, but she wasn’t sure what to tell him. 

_ I saw him at the game. Saw your dad, too. Nate went to a party after.  _

It was the truth, just not the complete truth.

_ Ok, he probably crashed at a friend’s then.  _

_ Yeah, I’m sure he’s fine.  _ Claire texted back. She peeked into her bedroom. Very sure.

_ How are you?  _ Aaron replied. 

_ Good! About to go for a run. _

_ You do that a lot.  _ Laughing emoji.

_ It’s how I think.  _ Shrug emoji. 

_ A healthy coping mechanism.  _ Wink.

Claire smiled.  _ Yep, though diner food helps, too. _

_ The offer still stands. I know all the best diners. _

_ Thanks. We’ll do that someday. _

Claire popped in her headphones and headed out the door, walking quickly to the park to warm up. She did extra stretches under the trees, relishing the feeling of working the stiffness out of her muscles. When she launched into her run, she felt better than she had ages. She ran for over an hour, working up a sweat with sprints and pauses to do crunches and push-ups in the grassy medians between the sidewalk and the street. It was still early enough that few people were stirring, and only a few cars passed by during her whole run. Claire felt like she could go forever, but her stomach rumbled and she recalled the strange sensation of passing out on the kitchen floor, so she headed back to her house, determined to make some breakfast before she had a repeat performance. 

She let herself in the back door quietly, still not sure if Nate was awake. The house was quiet, so Claire drank from the kitchen tap again and headed into the master bath to take a shower. She was singing quietly to herself and rinsing off the last of the shampoo when she heard the door open and Nate stepped inside. Claire shut off the tap and squeezed her hair out, reaching for a towel which Nate put into her outstretched hand. She wrapped herself up, asking, “How ya feeling?” Nate ran his hand over his face.

“Not bad.” He rinsed out his mouth a few times in the sink and drank from his palm as Claire used a second towel to dry her hair. 

“Hungry? I was about to make breakfast.” 

“You could say that,” he replied, turning toward her. His hands reached for the knot on her towel, unwrapping her body and pulling her up into her arms so her feet left the floor. 

“Nate,” she breathed, somewhat amazed by his seemingly endless stamina. But she was feeling good after her run, and the thought of a romp in the sheets was more than appealing. Claire wanted to take it slow, though, so when Nate carried her back into the bedroom and put her back on her feet, she pulled his shirt up. He helped get it off since she wasn’t tall enough to pull it over his arms. Then she pulled it over her own head and pushed against Nate’s chest. 

“Take off your pants and lay down on your stomach.”

Nate’s eyebrows went up, but he complied, both curious and aroused by the sight of her in his shirt. Claire pulled a lighter out of her bedside table drawer and lit a few candles around the room, then she pulled a small jar of a whitish substance out of her closet. Nate looked skeptical, so she explained, laughingly. “Coconut oil. I use it for my hair sometimes.” She shook several drops of some kind of essential oil into the jar, then scooped out a chunk of the soft substance and rubbed it over her hands, putting the jar on the table by the bed. She crawled onto Nate’s body, pinning him down by sitting astride his ass. Then her hands were on his back, expertly teasing out the kinks in his muscles. She started with his shoulders and made her way up and down his spine, kneading, digging in, and softly feathering in all the right places.

“Holy fuck,” Nate said into the pillow, his deep voice muffled. He turned his head to the side slightly. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Claire laughed aloud, delighted that he was so completely at her mercy. “My mom was a massage therapist. She taught me a few things before she died, and I still have some of her books. Plus, regular massages are one of my dad’s few indulgences. When I get one, too, I take notes.” She was kneading the tender spot above his buttocks, then ran her palms up and down his whole back several times before moving on to his shoulders. 

“You’re pretty tense. And you have some knotted muscle right here,” she said clinically, pressing down hard on a spot near his neck with a thumb. Nate groaned loudly. Claire stopped to grab some more coconut oil, then finished up his arms in turn before spending a solid ten minutes on the bunched-up spot she’d noted, gradually coaxing the tissue smooth under his skin. She admired his beauty anew; he was like a classical statue...  _ but much more generously endowed _ , she laughed to herself, remembering that classical sculptors often carved their men with small packages since big ones were considered barbaric. 

Finally, Claire was satisfied with her work, slid off his back and rubbed her hands, blending in the remaining oil. For a minute she thought he had fallen asleep again, but he started to move slowly and turned his head. Claire went to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, the same one she’d left on the counter the night before. She returned with the full cup and handed it to Nate as he sat up, advising, “You should always drink a lot after a massage. Helps prevent soreness.” Nate again obliged, watching her over the rim of the glass. “I don’t know what kind of athletic trainer you guys have, but you could use a regular massage,” Claire advised. 

Nate grinned. “I have you.” 

“Till Monday,” she corrected. 

Nate growled, reaching for her. “Plenty of time.”

He dragged her onto the bed and threw her down on her back, lowering himself over her as he kissed her hard. He pulled back long enough to whip his shirt off of her and slide out of his boxers, then he was kissing her belly and breasts, taking his time to ensure she was ready. He didn’t know that having her hands all over him for the past 45 minutes was all the foreplay she needed. Nate was nuzzling her neck when she took hold of his erect cock and stroked it gently a few times. He shuddered and pulled away, whispering in her ear, “Fuck, Claire, I’m close.” She smiled and let go, holding up her hands innocently. He responded by pushing her thighs apart insistently and rearing back to watch as he pushed himself into her slowly. Then he withdrew almost completely and repeated the motion, watching Claire’s expression this time as he filled her, his hands gripping her hips hard while he struggled to draw out his climax. It was a losing battle, and as Claire clutched his wrists and rested her lower legs on his shoulders, Nate gave way to hard and fast thrusts that shook the whole bed with their force. They finished simultaneously again, and Claire was glad there was a generous distance between her house and the neighbors’ because they were not quiet. She lowered her legs and Nate flipped onto his back, taking her with him. He held her as their hearts slowed, and Claire let her cheek rest on his chest and closed her eyes. 

They must have dozed for a little, because the sun was high in the sky and shining insistently through her annoying pink curtains when Claire opened her eyes again. Almost as soon as she moved, Claire’s stomach growled demandingly, and she laughed, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her midriff. Nate gave her a warning look.

“I know, I know. Time for brunch. You keep distracting me!” She reached for Nate’s shirt and slipped it over her head, making a quick stop in the bathroom to clean up. She’d better get back on the pill if this was going to continue…  _ but it won’t.  _ She told herself.  _ Just till Monday. Should be ok till then.  _

Nate emerged shirtless but in boxers as she was loading sausage links into a frying pan and mixing eggs in a bowl to scramble. Having Nate around was starting to feel routine, and Claire marveled again at the sheer strangeness of it. They had gone from barely speaking to knowing every inch of each other’s bodies. Nate came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, breathing in the scent of her hair, which was almost dry now. 

“You have anything on the agenda for today?” she asked, knowing that if they spent the day at her house, it would just be a repeat of this morning about a hundred times until she couldn’t walk anymore. While this prospect wasn’t exactly unappealing, Claire wondered if Nate had any other plans. 

“Today’s Saturday, right? When is your dad coming back?”

“Probably Monday afternoon sometime.”

Nate wrapped his arms around her. “Only two days. If I’ve only got till Monday, I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything - except you - till then.” 

Claire laughed. “I might die. How are you not dead yet?” She joked, elbowing him in what she thought was his ribs, but he was so tall it was closer to his hip. “But for real, you should check in with your family. Aaron texted asking if I’d seen you. Better come up with a likely excuse.”

Nate stiffened, then went into the bedroom to get his phone. Claire heard the whiz of an outgoing text as he came back in. “I told him I’m at McKay’s for the weekend.”

“Well then,” Claire said, heating butter in a second pan. “Hand me the cheese.” 

They ate scrambled eggs, toast, and sausages, bantering about nonsense mostly, then Nate loaded their plates into the dishwasher. 

“I have to throw my sheets in the wash,” Claire announced. “How about you pick a movie?” Nate nodded, plopping himself on the couch and picking up the remote as Claire pulled her sheets off the bed and started a load of laundry. After a moment of contemplation, she pulled the silk sheets she seldom used out of her closet and re-made the bed, then joined Nate on the couch. 

She didn’t pay much attention to the movie, an action-adventure selection she vaguely recognized and might have seen before. This was probably Claire’s favorite genre; she liked most brainless movies where shit blew up. She could only watch cerebral movies when she was in a certain mood, and most romantic comedies made her want to barf. She wondered briefly if Nate was paying any attention before her thoughts wandered off again. 

Claire was having trouble reconciling the Nate she had seen at that first party with the Nate sitting next to her on the couch. Granted, he was still emotionally inaccessible and moody, but the terrible anger and sociopathic tendencies weren’t very much in evidence. When he was alone with her, Nate was almost… nice. It was kind of fitting, she realized. His dad was living a double life of shady trysts at hotels, a seedy underside to a seemingly upstanding front. Nate’s front was an aggressive, tormented sadist, but in his double life he was a passionate and almost tender lover who helped wash up after breakfast. Cal was a fetishist masquerading as a family man. Was Nate a decent guy masquerading as a psycho? It seemed highly unlikely. Claire wondered if the two sides of Nate were at all reconcilable; in their little bubble of Claire’s bedroom, kitchen, and couch, there was little to trigger him, but she didn’t trust that the Nate who’d shared her bed would continue to exist outside of the walls of her house. She didn’t allow herself to hope; instead, she resolved to enjoy the next two days as shamelessly as she could with no strings attached. Nate seemed agreeable to a Monday deadline for whatever suspended reality they’d created. Claire didn’t know what Monday would look like, but she did know that she wasn’t ready to think about it yet. 

She leaned to her left, balling a pillow under her head. Nate reached down and pulled her feet into his lap, rubbing the arches with his thumbs as she stretched out fully on the couch. He continued up her calves, absently rubbing her smooth legs which she had fortunately waxed on Wednesday. Claire hated shaving, so every few weeks she waxed everything she could reach so she didn’t have to bother. Claire closed her eyes and let herself drift, almost asleep until she felt Nate’s fingers on her inner thigh. He’d lost interest in the movie now, too, and was sliding his palm under the hem of his shirt and between her legs. Claire didn’t open her eyes, but she shifted slightly to give him access. Nate’s pointer finger started to make slow circles on her clit, and when she was sufficiently wet, his finger slipped along her cleft and into her, making Claire arch her back and sigh. Nate fucked her with one exceptionally long finger for a little while, then forced in a second beside it, stretching her open as his thumb found her clit again. Nate’s expert hands had Claire writhing around him in wordless ecstasy, and his satisfaction was unmistakable when she came with a cry. 

After she caught her breath again, Claire crawled over to him on her hands and knees. “Your turn,” she said deviously, and peeled back the waistband of his boxers so she could take his already-erect cock in her mouth. Nate leaned back and let his head rest on the edge of the couch, closing his eyes as Claire combined hands, lips, and tongue. This is something she had always been good at, according to her previous boyfriends, and it wasn’t long before Nate rasped, “Fuck, fuck - stop or I’ll come.” Claire stopped and looked up at him, puzzled. “You don’t want to?”

“Not yet,” he said, and pulled her over his lap, his intent becoming clear as he settled her legs on either side of his hips and guided himself into her, then wrapped his hands around her waist, his fingers overlapping over her spine and his thumbs on her bellybutton. Claire scooped her hips, establishing their rhythm for the first time, and Nate let her until he got so close that he lost control. He slid his back down the couch so he could thrust his hips up against her, his hands still fast around her waist as he ground into her and she felt the pumping warmth of his release. Nate made a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through Claire’s whole body and cursed loudly. The intensity was certainly not diminishing for either of them. Instead, as it seemed like their comfort with one another grew, the better they could read and adjust to each other’s needs. Nate still felt impossibly huge to Claire, but their joining rarely hurt, and when it did, it was more pleasure than pain. Nate adjusted so he was more upright on the couch again, and he kissed Claire’s neck. 

“The more I get of you, the more I want,” he growled into her ear, his stubble again a welcome torture on the soft skin of her neck. Claire wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling much the same way. 

“I know the feeling,” she whispered as she nibbled his earlobe.


	12. Don't let the sun go down on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Nate continue to live in suspended reality. Warning: Again more smut. Lots and lots of smut.

They had settled onto the couch again and dozed off for a couple of hours, still oddly comfortable around each other. Claire awoke to Nate gazing down at her head on his lap with an unreadable expression on his face. She couldn’t quite call it tenderness; she wasn’t sure Nate’s bottomless eyes could ever quite manage warmth, but it wasn’t an unsettling gaze. Claire drew her brows together and met his eyes, then slowly crossed hers, letting the tip of her tongue point out of the side of her mouth.

“You’re making faces at me,” Nate observed somewhat coldly.

“Yes, Nate Jacobs,” she said very seriously, then burst out laughing. 

Somewhat to Claire’s surprise, Nate smiled one-sidedly. It was a good thing he didn’t reciprocate with a goofy face, or else Claire would have to drop her guard completely; despite how much she was starting to like this Nate Jacobs doppelganger, she knew that would be dangerous. 

She was still giggling almost drunkenly when Nate lowered her head gently down onto the couch and stood. He looked down at her for a moment before sliding his boxers down over his hips and stretching out atop her, stark naked, and running his hands under her shirtdress.

Claire sobered immediately, gazing into his eyes. She was struck by the realization that Nate was motivated this time by some kind of powerful emotion he couldn’t articulate; the only way he knew how to express it was physically. That seemed both sweet and terribly sad, and her eyes softened as she yielded to him. Claire spoke back to him in the language he understood. She ran the fingers of her left hand through Nate’s close-cropped hair as her right hand slid up the ridges of muscle along the side of his torso. He was holding himself up above her on his hands so his weight wouldn’t crush her, but she lifted herself up to brush her lips softly over his. He braced himself on his left forearm as he pulled her clothing up and out of the way, his eyes never leaving hers, drawing her in with ruthless gravity. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down at her entrance to ease his entry, then he was pushing into her slowly enough that he seemed impossibly long. 

She finally closed her eyes and bit her lower lip slightly when Nate groaned and drove himself fully into her. He rested like that for an eternity of moments, his forehead pressed against Claire’s. He lowered his chin and kissed her - a real kiss, not just a lustful taking - and Claire’s heart flip-flopped. Then it was over, and Nate was scooping his hips, his deep, slow thrusts building speed. Claire moved with him, giving herself over to the pure sensation of his body filling hers. His hot lips burned patterns into her chest and neck, and she balled her fist in his hair and clutched at the skin on his back as they both came close to the edge. Nate gathered her up in his arms, growling in that familiar way he had, and Claire threw her head back and cried out as they came in unison, nerveless and shaking. Nate collapsed fully onto her then, sliding out of her as he rested his cheek on her chest. They lay, sweaty and breathless, their arms tangled around each other, till their heartbeats slowed. 

“Let’s go for a drive,” Claire suggested, her fingers lightly trailing through Nate’s hair.

“Where?” he asked.

“Who cares? Just somewhere.”

He raised his head, looking at her curiously, considering. “Okay,” he agreed hesitantly. “I’ll get my keys.”

“Not in your truck,” Claire said impulsively, and when Nate frowned, she added, “It’s too recognizable. We can take my dad’s car.”

Nate pondered this for a moment, then seemed to see the wisdom of it. “Fine, but I’ll drive.” 

“Deal.” 

Nate stood, not bothering to put his boxers back on. He just picked them up off the floor and started toward the bedroom, looking over his shoulder to see if Claire was following. She picked herself up off the couch somewhat gingerly, still wary of the soreness that was seemingly inevitable with Nate. She took a few deep breaths and stood fully upright slowly, then stopped off in the bathroom before heading back into her bedroom to browse her closet. Somewhat uncharacteristically, she chose a white Grecian-style sleeveless maxi dress that crossed over her chest and fell in slightly stretchy, swingy, generous lengths down to her ankles. There was no point, really, in wearing anything that was hard to get out of with Nate around. This dress had enough support and length to be modest even though she had no intention of wearing anything under it. She slid her feet into thonged sandals, added a spritz of her favorite amber perfume, and went in search of her keys and Nate. He was looking out the kitchen window, fully dressed in the same jeans and t-shirt he’d worn to the party after the game, which made sense since he hadn’t exactly packed an overnight bag. He turned when he heard her come in and shamelessly looked her up and down. 

“How come you don’t wear things like that to school?” He asked, clearly approving.

Claire cocked an eyebrow at him. “As if I don’t have enough trouble without drawing attention to myself.” She went to the pantry and fridge and loaded a few items into a small basket.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. Then he turned toward the front door. “Lead the way.”

Claire grabbed her keys and her purse and went out into the balmy late afternoon, a familiar routine that felt so different as her body ached in pleasant ways with every step. She tossed the keys over the top of the car as Nate walked around to the driver’s side. He adjusted the seat all the way back to accommodate his long legs. _ It’s no wonder he drives that massive truck _ , Claire observed.  _ Normal cars aren’t made for him to fit into comfortably. _ Nate started the ignition and looked over at Claire.

“Where to?”

Claire didn’t know the area very well, but she said definitively, “Out of East Highland. How far is the beach?”

“About 45 minutes,” Nate said as he backed out of the driveway.

“Head that way,” she instructed, and he nodded, seemingly willing to let her choose. Claire remembered her dad mentioning a state park along the coastline; she did some Googling and came up with a likely candidate. She put her phone into the holder on the dash so Nate could see and leaned back, rolling down the window as she slid off her shoes and put her feet out near the rearview mirror. Claire closed her eyes and let the warm late afternoon sun soak into her skin.

“Where did you live before here?” Nate asked. 

Claire didn’t open her eyes, but responded lazily, “Up north a ways. We were only there about six months. Before that we were on the east coast, and before that the midwest.”

“How many times have you moved?”

“So many times,” Claire laughed softly, watching the strip malls disappear. “It’s not so bad. I’m used to it.”

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Quite the interrogator today, huh?” She squinted at him, mostly joking. “I grew up in Virginia, near D.C. We used to go out to Shenandoah National Park all the time.” Then she sang, “Almost heaven, West Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River…”

Nate looked at her blankly.

“ _ Take Me Home Country Roads _ ? John Denver?” Nate said nothing. Claire laughed, shaking her head. “You really have never been out of East Highland.” Then she looked at him carefully. “Have you ever wanted to?”

“Wanted to what?” Nate asked, his eyes on the road. 

“Get out. Of East Highland.”

He shrugged. “I never really thought about it.”

“Well you hardly seem overjoyed to be here,” she mused, more to herself than to him. 

“I guess it’s where I belong.” 

That seemed somewhat fatalistic to Claire, so she pushed. “I would argue that’s for you to decide.”

Nate frowned, his expression stormy. “It never seemed like much of a choice.”

Sensing danger, Claire shrugged and looked out the window again. “I think it is.” Then she smiled and glanced over at him. “At least right now it is.”

He relaxed a little. “I don’t really go out here much.”

“Me either,” Claire joked. 

They avoided talking about anything having to do with what either of them expected to happen after Monday, instead sticking to lighthearted commentary on the scenery which was losing its man-made markers and giving way to wildness. 

“My dad said no one really goes to these beaches because they’re a bit more rocky than the big tourist beaches. I’ve never been one for crowds,” Claire mused. 

“Fine by me,” Nate affirmed. 

Before long, they were driving down an unpaved road and pulling into a small set of mostly unmarked parking spots that were all empty save for their car. A trailhead marker stood at the far end, leading downward.

“Perfect,” Claire sighed, relieved that they wouldn’t have to risk seeing anyone they knew… or anyone at all, really It was getting later, and the sun had taken on that rich, golden quality that marked the end of the afternoon. Claire got out with her small basket of snacks and dug through the trunk, triumphantly pulling out a worn picnic blanket. She looped it over her arm and let Nate take her other hand in his as they made their way down the rough path toward a small, sandy beach surrounded on all landward sides by rocky outcroppings. The breeze was light off the water, so laying down their blanket wasn’t too hard when helped by the windbreak of one of the rock piles on the left hand side near the water. Claire kicked her shoes off in the sand and plopped down on the corner opposite where she had put the basket to hold down the corners. Nate followed more slowly, resting his shoes on the last unsecured corner. 

“Perfect place to watch the sunset,” Claire announced, satisfied. She reached for the small basket and pulled out a bottle of pinot noir with a twist cap. She held it up, shrugging again.

“I know it’s probably not your choice beverage, but I didn’t bring cups, so hopefully the opportunity to swig it like a pirate makes up for it.” Claire twisted off the top, took a hearty swig, and held it out to Nate. He accepted it reluctantly, sniffed it once, grimaced, and took a swig, too. They traded it back and forth a few times before Claire balanced the bottle precariously in the corner of the basket and took out cheese, crackers, and a small cutting board. 

“Very French,” she laughed, and Nate looked skeptical. Had he been anywhere else with anyone else or any less hungry, he would have scorned this offering, but he warmed up a little when Claire brought out spicy sausage and a bunch of green grapes. He watched while she artfully arranged the selection of snacks on the cutting board between them. Claire was already starting to feel the effects of the wine, so she popped a few grapes into her mouth and chewed meditatively on a cracker with cheese, staring out at the horizon.

“I’m kind of terrified of the ocean,” she observed.

“What about it?” Nate asked.

“Kind of everything…” Claire mused. “How huge and deep and powerful and endless it is. Storms. Sharks. But I’m morbidly fascinated by it, too. Like I read about people who survived being lost at sea and I wonder if I could look around me and see nothing but water and not go completely crazy.”

“I guess I never thought about it,” Nate said reflectively, once again seemingly taken aback by how foreign Claire’s thoughts were compared to his own.  _ He really is utterly absorbed in the world of East Highland _ , Claire observed. 

“What _ do _ you think about, Nate Jacobs?” she teased, popping another grape into her mouth and putting a cracker with cheese into Nate’s hand. He put it into his mouth mechanically, lost in an inner battle. He didn’t know what to tell her. His thoughts were mostly dark, when he let himself notice them at all. But around Claire it was different. He mostly thought of her, or of the strange flights of fancy or tangents that she so openly shared with him from her inner world. Getting out of his own head was a relief, a respite from the endless calculations by which he lived his life. He realized he’d been silent for a long time, and looked at Claire, whose hair was haloed by the setting sun behind her. Her green eyes matched the breaking waves.

“You,” he said simply, since she was occupying his mind at the moment. 

She studied him almost sadly for a moment, then laughed. “Well, I’m not sure what you did to deserve that, but you probably need a drink.” She held out the bottle to him; he drank some without objection and passed it back. 

Claire took a swig and mused, “Well, to be honest most of the time I have no idea what to think about you, but for the moment I’m happy being kind of lost with you on some random beach watching the sun go down,” she said, the alcohol buzzing in her veins and making her feel both honest and magnanimous. Nate seemed content with that, and he pulled her toward his chest, letting her rest her back against him as he braced them both with his arms in the sand behind him. She fed him a few more crackers and between them they drained the bottle and polished off the grapes as the sun sank into the water before them. The swatches of cloud caught enough of the setting sun to fill the sky with vivid warm hues, painting Claire’s dress pale pink. 

The meager fare made the wine that much more potent, and as the light began to fade, Nate started to rub his palms up and down Claire’s bare arms. She turned her face up to his and he kissed her -- softly at first, then more insistently. He took hold of her shoulders and twisted her around so he could press her back into the soft sand under the blanket, then he was nuzzling his scruffy face against her neck and fumbling with the button on his jeans as he pushed her legs open with his knees. Nate kept kissing her - alternating lips, neck, and breasts as he pulled down the shoulders of her dress - and slipped the fingers of his other hand between her legs to tease her clit. When she was clearly ready, Nate freed himself from his jeans, lifted up the skirt of Claire’s dress, and pushed her thighs wide to watch his shaft disappear into her in the waning light. 

She sighed like the sound of the soft waves on the sand as he entered her, and Nate felt wonderfully calm, the sharp edges of all the broken parts of him temporarily still, so nothing hurt. He wanted to rest there like that, unmoving, with Claire’s arms around him, his body inside hers, forever. But the need to thrust grew, and before long he was pounding into her with a kind of frenzy, as if he could blend them together if he just went deep enough. Claire was gasping, moving against him, desperately close, and he didn’t hold back as his finish shortly followed hers, covering his vision with creeping black as he emptied himself into her. He clung to her then, like a drowning man, and she let him roll them onto their sides, her body cradled against his broad chest and her bent right leg tucked under his arm so they were still joined with her long skirt covering them. They drifted off to sleep as the waves shushed along the sand. 


End file.
